Beyond Heaven
by 8inchCaliper
Summary: Andrew and Monica have a secret - but how long will it keep?
1. Chapter 1

**_Good afternoon tbaa fans! :^) I have been wanting to write another story for a while, but I wasn't sure which way I wanted to take it. As a longstanding member of , I am coming off a very 'adult' story streak (meaning, it's very difficult to sensor myself). Then again, I consider that which I write to be tasteful and any adult material to be relevent to the story, at least. That said, I was very lenient with my rating here, because I recognize that stories marked "mature" rarely if ever get noticed or even read. But I assure you, it's not graphic in any way. I promise this. It merely straddles the line between teen/adult. So I went with a teen rating to give memebers the benefit of the doubt. Thanks so much for reading. _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own TbaA (although at times I feel that I DO own it) lol - and I derive no profit from these works. Whatsoever. Thanks. _**

**Beyond Heaven**

In a darkened room, just out of the stream of moonlight, two angels shut off their natural glow and linked arms in the shadows. The human form tended to dominate the angelic one - but it was so easy to do, especially on Earth. Then again, the angelic form was a powerful entity; God had made it that way, connected directly with Him but also disjointed somehow.

His mouth found hers, and her sigh was like a prayer, a gust of life through him. She held onto him, her small hands on his shoulders, clasping his biceps, then sliding up through the wheat locks of his hair, and he shivered, lost to everything but her.

He pressed her gently against the wall and tugged handfuls of her hair, long golden red tendrils, silken and bountiful. Her lips were full against his as she kissed him, repeatedly, first his upper then his lower lip. She didn't mean to tease him, but she wanted to savor these times so she lingered on his mouth, marveling in the sensation.

And then he couldn't take any more but pulled her to him and crashed his mouth against hers, finding solace in her kiss. Her tiny gasp made him that much more thirsty for her, and he sought out her tongue and met it with his own, triggering a moan from his own depths.

They paused and simply stared into one another's eyes, catching their breath. He continued to stroke her hair, hating to lose contact. His face was so serious and she reached up and touched him, traced his brow and down the bridge of his nose. He lowered his lids over darkened green eyes and she could see he was pensive.

"Tell me, Andrew." She knew him well enough to know something was on his mind. He couldn't hide his emotions from her even if he tried.

"I've never loved anything this much." His voice was grave.

Her response was a tiny smile. She waited for him to finish.

"It's becoming more and more difficult…" he paused. "…to hide this."

She nodded her agreement as her mind began to wander… On their last assignment together, they had been so caught up in each other that it had been difficult to truly focus on their task and it was all they could do to keep Tess in the dark. Obviously, there was no hiding from the Father, but Tess was a different story. They were absolutely convinced that keeping her oblivious was the best bet.

"We've been careful." She spoke in a whisper. "Tess knows we're close, but…"

Andrew's half-smile was doubtful. "Not like this. She's been alive for several millennia; she's intuitive. Eventually, she'll know - if she doesn't already."

Monica sank against the wall, overwhelmed at the thought of that. "Then, she will have been meant to know, Andrew. Until then, maybe… we can go on like this."

He stared at her, wondering how she could be so optimistic – but then his face melted into a smile and she smiled back at him, her dimples deepening as he came in closer. His hands cradled her face, caressed the soft cheek as she leaned into the touch.

In another moment, their lips were pressed together, and Andrew once again let his fingers get lost in her thick long hair. Sometimes, this was too much for him, too encompassing. He had no idea if this was permissible by the laws of heaven and he was too afraid to ask. Somehow it seemed easier to remain ignorant even though that wasn't his way. When it came to Monica, though, the rules seemed malleable. He would bend any way for her, to be with her.

When this affair began, it was around the time that Gloria came into being. The tension between them had festered and almost bubbled over. Andrew had never known an angel like Monica, and he worked with her so often and so closely that his feelings of camaraderie towards her eventually morphed into something far deeper. She wasn't just a friend to him or a colleague. When he looked at her, he felt himself ache with a longing he couldn't quite put into words. The way she smelled, her voice, the soft accent, the deep cocoa pools of her eyes… even now, it was too overwhelming.

When he pulled back from her, she looked flushed with heat, eyes unfocused. Her full glistening mouth was swollen and pouty. He touched her bottom lip with his thumb, loving the softness of her. God had taken a great deal of care in her creation, and Andrew was thankful for that more than anything else in his life.

"I hate it when I want you this much." His voice was barely audible. "It feels like a sin."

Monica let her lids slip shut over her eyes. His words made her melt from the inside out. She didn't care about sin in this moment; she only knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She tended not to get caught up in the semantics of human versus angelic law. She didn't think the rules necessarily applied to them and what she had with Andrew didn't feel like a crime against heaven. It felt like love, real pure love.

"Touch me, Andrew?" her voice was soft as a rose petal and he could do nothing but comply.

The white mesh shirt she wore over her dress fell away beneath his hands. He carefully undressed her as she watched him with hooded eyes. His movements were sure and natural. She was a slender woman just under what was considered average height, perfect to him. She reached up and kissed his mouth as he slid the straps of her dress down her arms. Her human form got chill bumps along her vanilla skin even while she felt she might catch fire from yearning.

This wasn't the first time they had experienced it with each other, physical love, but they were each other's first. They had fallen together as if by gravitational force, her landing into his arms and them going over the precipice together into bliss.

Her hands reached for his belt buckle and slid the slip of leather through its loops, her fingers nimble as she undid the button and slid down the zipper. It was a dance they were becoming all too familiar with, the shedding of clothes, the joining of bodies, the rhythm of the passion.

"I love you, Andrew." She whispered against him as he lifted her naked body into his arms.

He answered by trailing his mouth down along her pale slender neck, his tongue tracing the sinewy muscle there. She shuddered against him, the scratch of denim and cotton against her skin making her shiver. He was too caught up to worry about his clothes. He loved holding her too much, loved the feel of his hands on her body, loved cradling her to him, the light weight of her, the feel of her human heart thumping through her, through him.

The place they were in was a makeshift efficiency. Neither of them needed much more than a soft place to rest themselves. They didn't technically need food or heat or even light. They emitted their own light, gave off their own heat.

She reclined back and her hair fanned out around her; she was a vision as she waited for him to join her, the flicker of mischief in his eye. He shed his shirt with trembling hands because it was like new, every time they were together. Before his shirt even hit the floor, her hands were caressing the soft chest covered in fine golden down; Andrew was perfectly built, evenly tanned, sturdy and yet simultaneously gentle – a masterpiece.

Instead of lying over her, he pulled her up to face him and held her in a loose embrace, inhaling the violet rosy scent of her. She smelled like a wedding bouquet and then he needed to taste her, his mouth meeting hers, and it was like they never parted. Moments passed and they were sinking deeper into one another, her limbs locked around him as they melded into one, rocking at a pace as slow and intense as the tides.

He tangled his fingers in her hair and held her impossibly close, as if it was the last time they would be together, whispering poetry into her hair, against her skin. And she sighed and let her head fall back, weary from the pleasure, fatigued from the high of having him inside her.

When they collapsed together, it was as if they had spent an eternity making love, they could scarcely catch their breaths.

"These bodies weren't made for this…" he exhaled deeply and wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow. "…we're angels, not humans. Hopefully, we don't damage ourselves. This is far more powerful…"

She smiled at him, her hair damp from perspiration. "… and exhilarating." Her Irish lilt seemed flushed out as she took deep breaths. "Andrew, if this is damaging, then I don't think I mind it much."

He chuckled then and pulled her into his embrace, loving the feel of her sweat slicked body against his own. "I have to agree with you, angel…" and then his face turned serious. "… but now we have to get going. We're being called to a case…"

-----

When Monica arrived in Portland some time later, she was met by a preoccupied Tess and a precocious Gloria who was deep in the middle of explaining to the elder angel why it was completely harmless for her to drive the Cadillac.

"I assure you, Tess, I am more than capable. I have acquired all knowledge about the make and model and the mechanics of operation. It seems quite simple actually…"

"And when did you 'acquire' all of this knowledge, my little angel?" Tess tried hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Oh, just a few minutes ago when we stopped at the internet café. Those are very useful places by the way. I don't know why the humans hadn't thought of them sooner."

Monica smirked at the exchange, always amused by Tess and Gloria's 'chemistry'. When Tess glanced in her direction, however, she felt herself flush with heat. Something in Tess' almond eyes seemed probing, inquisitive. Monica turned towards Gloria, fearful of those wise orbs...

"So, Gloria, when you were at the café, did you happen to procure any of the house beverages? Particularly the ones in the coffee bean, variety?"

Gloria was about to comment when Tess cut across her. "Oh, I'm sorry angel girl, you were obviously too caught up in whatever it was you were doing to meet us at my specified time, so you missed out on coffee hour…"

Monica felt herself beginning to flush an even deeper shade, but willed it away as best she could. She thought she caught a flicker of implication in Tess' tone and it was enough to throw her somewhat off balance.

"Well, Tess, I was… talking to someone…and I lost track of…" she found it most difficult to fabricate a lie, and she didn't want to do it if she didn't have to, so it was a relief when Tess waved away her lame excuse.

"Never mind, angel girl, you're here now. And lucky for you, our assignment has yet to arrive…"

As it turned out, the case was a downtrodden, middle-aged man, fed up with his family life and seeking a change of pace, a fairly simple scenario – and one Gloria could easily handle mostly on her own. In fact, this was Gloria's case. Monica and Tess were only there for moral support and back-up.

As it was, Tess worked closely with Gloria, helping her to hone her skills as a caseworker while Monica found herself drifting away, getting lost in her daydreams of the angel of Death. Everything she saw reminded her of him. The wheat fields surrounding this land was like his hair, lightly blowing in the wind, gold as ember. The willow trees were sad and green, like eternity, like his eyes. The breeze against her skin was like his whisper against the shell of her ear. She shivered and thought she felt him near until she turned and saw he was indeed standing there.

She swallowed hard and restrained herself. Her first instinct was to rush him, to crush herself against him and taste his mouth. Instead, she let slip a little smile of recognition.

"Andrew? What are you doing here?"

He exhaled and approached but kept his distance. "Gloria's case."

"Oh no." Dread filled Monica's heart. It was a sweet little family that seemed strong enough to withstand this little setback with their father; she hadn't anticipated a loss of life. "Who?"

"I think that all depends on Gloria." He answered, drinking in her beauty. "You look incredible, by the way."

Monica let his comment pass. "I think Gloria is capable of getting the message across. She's very… articulate…"

"Unfortunately, it's going to take more than that…" he turned to look over his shoulder. "… where's Tess?"

Monica exhaled. "I don't know. But she could be anyplace. You know that." There was a tinge of disappointment in her voice because she knew why Andrew was inquiring. It would be nice to share a kiss with him, to hold him close, if only for the moment.

"I can't stop thinking about you." He said in a grave voice, a little crease forming between his eyes. "I don't know what to do about this."

Monica felt the same but thought it was pointless to repeat it. Instead, she took one step towards him and lowered her voice an octave.

"There's a banquet later, for the family. Tess and Gloria will be attending…" she waited as Andrew's eyes filled with hope. "… I won't be."

"What time?" he felt himself going crazy inside, imagining time alone with her.

"Eight o'clock. I'll be here."

"So will I." he whispered with a little smile and turned and vanished on the horizon as she stood there watching, a little tremble going up her spine. She liked the fact that she could feel human pleasure in this body, experience all the sweetness and the softness, the tenderness and love and none of the pain. It was one of the great perks of being an angel on earth.

And later, as the clock neared seven o'clock, Monica watched as Gloria dressed in a long conservative dress, fixing her hair in the mirror, and then her eyes linked with Monica's.

"You look like an angel with something on her mind, Monica." Gloria's voice was light, conversational.

"Do I?" Monica shrugged. "Well, I was just thinking about how far you've come in such a short time. You've become a very proficient caseworker, and I'm very proud of you."

Now Gloria turned, her round little face beaming. "Do you really mean that, Monica? It means a lot coming from you. I mean, I've had some bumps in the road, obviously, but everything seems to be going very well now. I'm getting really acclimated to this."

"I can tell." Monica meant everything she said. She was very proud of Gloria, and glad to see her progressing forward. With her enthusiasm and her gift for knowledge, Monica was sure she would get a promotion in practically no time at all.

"This banquet tonight is for Tommy Jr. His little league team is commemorating all the players with a little gold-plated statuette of sorts… Tommy has plenty already on the mantle…"

Monica smiled. "It's called a trophy, Gloria. The coach rewards the players for a job well done. Its common practice in athletic teams."

"Well, at any rate, it's going to be a nice time. Are you sure you won't come?"

"Oh, I'm sure…" Monica nodded and feigned indifference. "…I think I'll just putter around here and skim through a few magazines. You and Tess have a nice time, though."

Gloria shrugged. "Okay then. We'll see you soon."

And after they left, Monica was only alone for a few minutes before she felt the familiar warmth of his presence in the room. She turned and looked at him, her body going weak as she gazed at him in his cream colored turtleneck and matching slacks. He was glowing even when he wasn't and she could feel the heat radiating off him as he came near.

"I love you…" he bent his head towards her and she let her eyes slip shut.

"Andrew…" her breathy reply was swallowed by his kiss. He held her body against his and buried his hands in her hair.

They moved, slowly towards the wall and he pressed her against it as she lifted the shirt over his head, eager to touch his downy skin. She caressed his chest through the soft hair there and kissed him where her fingers had been.

"Monica…" he moaned softly as she caressed him, and he pushed his hands through her hair, getting lost in its silky waves.

In another couple of minutes, she was sitting in his lap, his hands all over her, his mouth leaving heat across her skin wherever it touched. He draped her naked body across the carpet and kissed her neck, her sternum, her belly, dipped his tongue into the hollow of her navel. She squirmed beneath him, shut her eyes, one hand clasped around his wrist.

She arched her back and bit her lip as he covered her body with his own and sheathed himself within her. The sensation caused a tremor to ripple through the both of them and it was all they could do to hang on. The rhythm grew frantic fast, more out of urgency rather than desperation. They had no idea how much time before headlights flowed into the driveway – or angels appeared right where they lay, tangled together, naked, exposed. The element of uncertainty added a new thrilling dimension, and drove them along further, harder.

Friction gaining momentum, they held tight to one another for fear of dropping off the edge of eternity, the power in the act almost overtaking them - and Monica's cries were lost in the radiance and reverberation of their immense force. It was white hot, molten as magma and they reached a height so great, time stood still for one brief moment as they surged into one another.

Her head lolled and Andrew held her up with one powerful arm. She rested against him, limp, his hand against her heaving ribcage as she found herself again. Beautiful red hair spilled down her sweat-dampened back and across his shoulder, and he brushed it away from her face to gauge her condition.

"Monica?" he was barely able to speak. "Are you okay, angel?"

She murmured something against his slick skin, her lips brushing his shoulder, and he smiled down at her. Their bodies were very weak, but he lifted her up and put her on the couch. There wasn't time to dress manually, so he willed himself dressed – and her as well. He made the room as it was before they made love, fixed the carpets, got rid of any evidence.

She opened her cocoa eyes and looked at him, her perfect mouth curled into a small smile. He came to her and kissed her forehead, then her mouth. He caressed her hair, her face, dabbed at her dampened brow. It concerned him how feverish she seemed, but then, she had a reason to be feverish after what they had just experienced. He wondered if she would be able to hide this from Tess, however…

Thankfully, it was much later when the family returned home. Tess was in a foul mood already because Gloria had managed to screw things up on a grand scale and cause a rift between the father and son, and Gloria was downtrodden because she felt she had failed.

After the family went to bed, Tess went to heaven overnight to handle business, and Gloria remained. She wandered the house, feeling sorry for herself and then she went outside to stare up at the stars and maybe find guidance from the heavens. It was there that she found Monica out in the gazebo.

"Monica?" she approached the weary redhead angel and considered her. "Are you alright?"

Monica smiled, even though it ached her to do so. In fact, her entire body ached, which was odd. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

Gloria wasn't sure why. Monica looked the same, for the most part, but there was something off about her that struck Gloria as peculiar the first moment she spoke. She couldn't put her finger on it… "No reason, I guess…"

"How was the banquet?"

"A truly royal disaster, to borrow a human phrase." Gloria sat beside Monica on the cast iron bench. "I somehow managed to mess things up just because I stated the rules of baseball out loud, causing an irate response from Mr. Petersen. It was like I unleashed a demon when all I said was…"

"Sometimes, its what you don't say that makes all the difference, Gloria…" Monica was glad for the cover of night so Gloria couldn't see her wince with every movement…

It was getting more and more difficult to be intimate with Andrew, but somehow the more it impaired her, the more she wanted him. She couldn't pinpoint it… and she couldn't explain it. She had experienced pain only a few occasions in all her hundreds of years as an angel, but this was all encompassing – as was her desire…

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**First, I just want to thank everyone for the kind reviews. At first, I wasn't sure which way to take this; I only knew I needed to get it written – but now my path seems clear. I hadn't intended to infuse so much angst, but that is the way my mind goes instinctively, so… ahh well. Why fight it, right? *grin* Also, I promise to write a longer chapter next. This chap and I battled until I came away defeated - but next time, it won't be so lucky! haha! **

2.

It was midday, and the sun was blazing down on them as they stood at the edge of the driveway, watching the Petersen family engaged in silent battle. Tess stood with hands on hips, wondering how it all had gone wrong, and Gloria calculated the exact moment of fallout because she wasn't sure how else to proceed. She was comfortable with numbers and statistics. She was less comfortable with matters of the human heart…

Monica stood a little apart from the group, the wind blowing her hair across her face. She was trying to avoid Tess, a difficult feat since they were working together on a case – but it helped that Tess was more interested in trying to help Gloria find her footing.

"I don't know where I went wrong." Gloria was truly perplexed. "One moment, they were having a nice calm breakfast and the next moment, Tommy Jr. was hurling a grapefruit at his father's head. This is a nightmare, Tess."

"Not yet… but it will be…" the angels turned at the sound of Andrew's voice, and Monica stayed where she was, on the devil's strip. His appearance had caused her heart to hammer inside her chest.

"How so, angel boy?" Tess inquired, a crease formed between her eyes.

"Well… Tommy Jr. is seeking his father's approval, even though it doesn't appear that way. He's acting out – like all children do. But in Tommy's case, it may prove fatal…"

"Oh, God… Please." Gloria murmured a little prayer. "I have to do something. I have to stop him. What should I do, Tess?"

"Well, for starters, angel baby, you're going to have to go inside and talk to him. There are two wars being waged in there: the one between the father and the son and the one going on inside the boy himself."

Gloria nodded and started up the drive, determined to break through and Tess threw a backwards glance at Monica, hesitating briefly, before following the younger angel. Monica didn't have the energy to wonder what Tess' look had meant. Instead she looked on as Andrew watched them go, worry etched into the handsome planes of his face. Without turning he addressed Monica.

"How are you?"

She sagged a bit against the tree she stood near. "I don't know."

He turned now and took in her delicate features. "I don't want to take you from your case…"

"I'm not helping much anyway."

"I have a little time, if you want to come with me…"

"I'd follow you anyplace. You know that."

He nodded then and reached for her hand. They stood facing one another and then they were gone…

From the picture window, Tess stood watching the devil's strip, considering what she had just seen. To the untrained eye, it just looked like two friends having an intimate chat, but Tess had known both of these angels for a long time, and she thought she saw something odd in the way they interacted. Andrew and Monica had grown closer over the past several years, but she wondered now as she watched them go, if she should be worried…

Far away from the Petersen's – or even the small town where they lived, Andrew sat across the table from Monica in a little bistro in Venice. It was rustic and cool, surrounded by brick walls built by Romans, ages ago.

It concerned him that she wouldn't look at him, even as he greeted a waiter in Italian and ordered himself a coffee and her a latte. When the young man went off to procure their drinks, he studied her beautiful face.

"Monica, look at me."

She hesitated only briefly before meeting his eyes. Her expression was unreadable. "I'm afraid, Andrew. I've never felt this way before."

"Neither have I." He reached for her hand, the contact sending a small jolt of electricity through them. She shut her eyes and pulled her hand from him.

"It feels too good. I can't stop thinking about it. When I'm with you, it's… like euphoria, Andrew." She paused. "I find that the more I have you, the more I want you – like an addiction. That can't be right."

He glanced out into the street, considering her words. "I feel the same way."

"So, what do we do about it?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, and I'm too afraid to find out." This caused her to meet his gaze. "I don't want to stop being together. I've never been happier than when I know I'm going to see you. I don't even know how I coped without you before this moment."

When their drinks arrived, Monica picked up the mug with shaking fingers and took a sip. He watched her lips meet the edge of the cup and forgot about his own drink. It didn't matter anymore.

When she placed it back on the table, she licked the foam from her lips and looked at him. Her small smile was the thing that pushed him over the edge. He reached for her hand and slid out of his seat, pulling her up with him. He dropped a few foreign bills on the table and they jogged out into the alley when he pulled her body against his and crushed his mouth against hers, causing her to whimper against him.

Her hands were driving through his hair as he pressed her against brick, her body sandwiched between him and the wall, the two of them getting lost in the shadows.

His tongue was in her mouth, and she latched onto it, suckling him passionately. When he pulled back, he looked regretful.

"Tell me to stop, Monica…" he was breathless. "… if you don't want this."

She pulled his pelvis against hers, desperate to feel him. Already her mouth was swollen from his kiss. "I don't want you to stop…"

The next instant, his hand was on her leg, trailing upward, bringing the hemline of her dress up, so that his hand was on her bare thigh. She shut her eyes, letting herself get lost in the sensation as his hand left heat wherever it traveled.

"Andr…" her voice got lost as he brought his mouth down and captured her lips, his fingers moving down below to drive her into a fury.

She arched against him and he lifted her up with his other hand, finding the perfect angle so that he could join his body with hers. She cried out when he filled her, and cried out again as he bent his head to graze her breast through the fabric of her dress.

As Monica had said, it was euphoric, the vacuum they created when they were inside each other, entangled and ignorant of the world outside. She felt a simultaneous nirvana and torment at being with him, but it was too addictive to resist. She clung to him and rode out the waves of his passion and hers, let it ripple through her, body pulsing so hard it might split in two. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she arched her back and let herself get lost in it, lost in him.

It was amazing how they managed to not get caught in the twenty or so minutes they were there just out sight, just down the alleyway. And when they finished, it was all they could do to remain standing. He helped her dress with trembling fingers and straightened his own clothes.

He pushed her hair out of her face and she looked up at him, not telling him about the immense ache she felt, the weariness, but when they walked, he noticed she winced and reached for him, instinctively, to keep her balance.

He reached down and held her, keeping her steady. "What is it, Monica? Tell me…"

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He touched a hand to her face and saw that she was clammy. "This isn't good for you."

She managed a small smile. "I'm willing to go through a little discomfort to be with you, Andrew. I don't want you to worry…"

"You're in pain?"

"No." she stammered. "It's not exactly pain…"

"Then what?"

She shook her head, trying to form words, but no sound would come. She couldn't keep it from him. She couldn't lie.

"I'll stop, then. I'll stay away." He said. "I don't want you hurt by this. An angel should never have to endure pain if…"

"I like the hurt, Andrew." She found herself blurting. "It makes me feel…"

"What?" his eyes met and lingered on hers. "Human?"

Somehow the feeling felt taboo – just like everything else they were experiencing. She averted her eyes, then. She recalled a fantasy she had experienced wherein she was human and she'd had a family. And even though angels didn't do a lot of sleeping, she occasionally let herself sleep in this human form just so she could dream about it, revisit that place, be that woman in the fantasy – not Monica the angel but Monica the wife and mother. Monica the human.

"I don't want you to stay away, Andrew. Please say that you won't."

He shook his head, a grave expression on his handsome features. "If being together in this way is making you feel bad, physically, then I won't do it."

The words hurt her worse than anything else she had experienced. "It's not actual pain. It's the anxiety that comes from not knowing when I'll see you again, when I'll touch you…" her eyes began to fill with water, and he held her to him, let his lips graze her brow.

"I adore you so much, Angel." He whispered against her temple.

"So, you won't stay away from me? You won't deny us this pleasure?"

He held her and caressed her hair, getting lost in the act. "We'll see…"

It was late afternoon as the sun began to go down and the Petersen's were having a quiet night together. Apparently, Tess and Gloria had managed to break through to them at least on some base level, and they were communicating.

Monica lingered outside in the flower garden kept by Mrs. Petersen. The lovely multi-colored roses gave off a magnificent fragrance that could only be created by the highest God, and Monica felt as if she were home, standing in the most beautiful garden in all of creation. Instinctively, she reached for one long stem and wasn't surprised to find she had pricked herself on a thorn. She didn't flinch because she was unaccustomed to reacting to pain. What did surprise her was the droplet of blood that flowed easily from her finger. She brought it to her mouth to stop the tickle, too stunned to do anything else. However, when she heard a familiar voice, she started.

"Oh, Miss Wings, so nice of you to join us."

Monica turned to face Tess, but kept her hand from view. If Tess saw her bleeding, she might panic. "Oh. Hello, Tess."

"Where've you been, angel girl? Did you forget that you were assigned to this case?"

Monica shrugged a shoulder. "Well, I thought that you and Gloria were handling the heavier aspects, and I was more of an observer…"

"An observer?" Tess laughed ironically. "Oh, that's a good one, Angel girl – and did you think maybe Gloria didn't need your help? Or did it ever occur to you that this case could be finished if you were a little more supportive of your colleague and offering her some better support? She could have used your advice a thousand times this past week, and you think what you were doing was more important?"

Monica shook her head. "No, ma'am." Something about Tess's reprimand made her feel very small. She lowered her eyes. "Forgive me."

"Incidentally…" Tess placed her hands on her hips. "… where have you been disappearing to these past few days without warning?"

Monica's face flushed warm then, and she found she was unable to will it away. Her ears burned with shame. "Tess, I…" she couldn't think of anything even remotely innocent that wasn't a blatant lie. "…well… Andrew…"

"Oh, this ought to be good." Tess was listening attentively.

"You see, we… well, he invited me to Venice, to a café, and…"

"And they were assisting me on a case." Both angels turned to the sound of the voice. It was Adam, standing there almost regal in his formal white. He looked ashen, however, as if he had just come from a case, and neither angel could dispute him.

"I should have known you were involved." Tess shook her head, fed up and already losing interest. "You just keep in mind that your case is here, angel girl. Not in Venice and not with Adam. Right here. You got that?"

Monica nodded, "Yes, Tess. I know, and I'm sorry."

"Mm Hmm…" she turned, patting Adam's shoulder familiarly as she went past them and into the house. When she was out of sight, Adam turned towards her.

"Thank you, Adam." She whispered.

"You owe me big time." He said. "Andrew told me you might be in hot water with Tess. Believe me, I understand how she gets."

"He didn't come himself." She said with a tinge of regret.

"Well, he couldn't exactly tear himself away just now. There was a terrible bus accident just outside Maryland… we're working on it together."

Monica exhaled, slowly, hating to think of a tragic loss of lives. "I'm so sorry…"

"Not as sorry as I am." He paused, looking off into the distance. "It was a school bus."

Now, Monica's eyes filled with water. She felt she might be sick. "Oh, Adam…"

"I have to get back. I'll give your regards to Andrew." His face was serious as he started to leave, but then he caught sight of her pricked finger and took her hand into his own so he could more closely inspect it. "This looks nasty." He met her eyes then, the intensity in his blue orbs jarring her. "I can't say I've ever seen anything like it…in an angel…"

She turned her face away because Adam seemed to look inside her soul and know just what was brewing inside her, as if she were made of glass. In another instant, he was gone…

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay. I had tried to post before, but there was an s i t e error in converting it, or...something... o_O Anyway, t hank you to all who is keeping up with this story. I am enjoying writing it (mostly because I enjoy Monica and Andrew) :^) But also, i thank you readers for staying with it and reviewing. It really makes it all worthwhile. Thanks. **

It was a brisk e v e n i n g for an August, so bitter that the wind cut through parkas to chill any human to the bone, but the Petersen's were oblivious to it as they looked on in wonder at the glowing angels before them.

It struck them as odd that Gloria lit up, as if from within, a golden ember across her hair and shoulders – but then Tess and Monica began to glow as well.

"I don't understand… what's happening?"

"You've been entertaining angels, baby." Tess said, a warm smile on her face. "And we have come with a message from God."

Tom Petersen squinted, amazed. "God?"

Gloria chimed in, her dark hair bathed in light. "Yes. He wants you to know that he loves you and He wants your family to work. He wants you to love one another and understand one another. And you can only do that through listening to each other."

Tommy Junior snorted. "Oh! Right! _You _try listening when someone is screaming in your ear! It isn't easy when no one _wants _to listen."

"That's when you open your heart." Monica spoke now, the white light of God's love flowing through her. "Shouting is never a good choice, but sometimes it's the only way to be heard. If your father doesn't listen, then you have to ask God to make yourself heard. Your father loves you, Tommy."

"No, he doesn't!" the boy shouted even as his eyes overflowed with tears. "He doesn't love me! He only loves his fancy cars and his women and his…"

"Be still…" she whispered, her hand on his soft mousy brown hair. And his floodgates opened. He cried in earnest, against the angel's warm palm, his face crumpled in despair. With her free hand, Monica reached for Tommy senior's hand and placed it above her own so he could comfort his son. "… your son needs you now. Listen."

And Tom senior reached for his son. The boy hesitated at first and then sank into his father's embrace, tears streaming from both of them. "I love you son – and I'm so sorry…"

Monica nodded, satisfied, and Gloria smiled as they looked on. Soon, Mrs. Petersen was also smiling through her own tears, having had to endure the tumultuous struggle between father and son all these past weeks. She went to them and they held her to them, caught up in each other's love and when their final tears expended, they turned their faces upward to see the angels had gone, leaving behind a message of everlasting love and forgiveness. The soft glow still lingered on the air.

"You were amazing, Monica." Gloria gushed from the backseat of Tess' Cadillac, as they drove away from the quaint little neighborhood. "I almost lost it when you reconnected Tommy junior to his dad. I mean, human love is such a powerful phenomena."

"I am merely a vessel for God's love, Gloria. Nothing more." Monica spoke in a soft humble voice as she gazed out the window at the passing landscape.

"I beg to differ. You were in rare form tonight, Miss. Wings." Tess glanced over at her longtime friend. "It was just what the Petersen's needed, having you focused on the task."

"I'm sorry I've been so distant, Tess." Monica exhaled, deeply. "Lately, it has been difficult to stay focused."

"I can see that…"

Monica's face flushed with heat as she averted her face. "I think it's the changing seasons…"

Gloria piped in from behind her. "Oh, I've heard of that! It's called seasonal affective disorder. A human condition in which people experience depression or sadness during the winter seasons – or occasionally in the fall or summer…" Gloria paused. "… then again, I've never noticed that in you before, Monica."

Monica smiled at Gloria's inquisitiveness. "I don't know if I would categorize it as that, necessarily, but…" and then she stopped, mid-sentence.

"What, Angel girl?" Tess looked around at her, her brown face a mask of worry.

Monica shook her head and felt color drain from her face. She didn't know what it was. The feeling came over her suddenly, a strangeness that was new and unpleasant. "Tess, please… please stop the car."

Tess didn't hesitate. She pulled the long red car over along the curb and Monica opened the door and got out, her legs faltering as she sank to the ground on her hands and knees and vomited , a b r o k e n f i g u r e b e n e a t h t h e m o o n l i g h t . Neither Tess nor Gloria could believe what they were seeing, but they rushed to her side.

"Monica," Gloria pushed Monica's hair from her face and offered her a handkerchief to wipe at her mouth. "Monica, are you… are you alright?"

Tess bent over her and touched a hand to her head, feeling for… well… she didn't know what… It wasn't exactly unheard of, angels experiencing human infirmities such as sickness or allergies. In fact, Tess had heard of an angel who was allergic to bee-stings and so took great care in avoiding assignments in forests or directly relating to the outdoors. In fact, angels indeed had averse reactions to drugs and alcohol – just as any human body did. The effects of which couldn't actually kill an angel, but could impair the human form it inhabited. Gloria herself had been affected by the drug Ecstasy just as Monica had been affected by alcohol – but this seemed different somehow…

"Monica, are you alright?"

"Forgive me, Tess…" she spoke in a slightly hoarse voice as she managed to get her footing again. "…I don't know what happened…"

"Did you eat something bad?" Tess inquired, her brows knitted. "What did I tell you about human food?"

Monica shrugged as she sat inside the car again, her face feeling clammy to her own hand. "I don't recall eating anything in the past few… days?"

Gloria regarded the Irish angel. "Well, that must be the problem. Your human form requires food. We should probably get you something…"

"It doesn't work that way, angel baby." Tess said, going around to the driver's side and getting in. "These human bodies can do human things, yes, but it isn't a necessity. Monica doesn't need to eat and she doesn't need to sleep – any more than when she was in heaven. It just becomes the natural thing to do once you have done these things. Now that we know what it feels like to eat and sleep, it feels normal to put something in or lay down our heads once in a while, but this is different…"

Monica rested her head back against the seat. "Perhaps Gloria is right, Tess. Maybe I could use a cup of soup or… something cool to drink…"

Tess nodded and put the car into drive. She didn't say it out loud, but she was positive something was wrong because Monica didn't ask for coffee. It was her one vice, and now it was the furthest thing from her mind. It was a little thing, but it was noticeable nonetheless…

When they arrived at a diner, Tess pulled in and the three angels got out and went inside. Once they seated themselves, Gloria broke the silence.

"I find it odd that every diner in America has the same tone: the light scent of cigarette smoke, the greasy food, the sound of percolating coffee. It's unappealing and yet somehow comfortable all at the same time." She smiled at her own observation. "Don't you find that strange, Monica?"

Monica didn't answer because she had drifted off into her own fantasy. She was imagining Andrew walking through the door and whisking her away to some place far away. She currently had no interest in taking on any new assignments or even addressing this sudden unexplainable illness that seemed to be taking over. There was a dull throb in her temple and she tried not to focus on that, but it seemed to be pulling her thoughts…

"Monica!"

"Yes?" she was broken out of her reverie by Tess' loud voice and her furrowed brow, staring directly at her. "I'm sorry, Tess. I was thinking…"

"Something is seriously wrong here, Miss Wings…" Tess began in a contemplative voice. "… and I think you know what it is, but you're not telling me. "

Now, Monica felt her heart drum inside her chest. Tess had a way of bringing out the truth, one way or another. "I don't know what you mean."

"Of course. That's exactly the response I expected." Tess was staring at her, as if trying to find the truth through telepathy – and Monica was certain she might actually do it.

"I have to go to the ladies room." She slid out of her booth and went to the rear of the diner before Tess could protest.

Once inside the restroom, she let the door close behind her and locked it. She drank water from the tap and pressed her cool wet hand to her face. She stared at herself in the mirror and wondered what was happening to herself. It had been almost five days since she had seen Andrew, and she felt like she was losing her mind. For a while, she was doing okay without him, delving into her work, being proactive with her case, assisting Gloria and doing her best to stay on Tess' good side – but Tess wasn't giving her any slack. The least little thing set her off; she was questioning Monica, pointing out obvious flaws. In fact, she was being harder on Monica now than she had ever been – and it struck Monica as odd… then again, maybe she was just more sensitive.

"Please…" she spoke out loud. "… please help me."

"It's for the best, Monica." Andrew's voice was like a whisper on the wind, and seeing his reflection in the mirror made her shudder with joy.

"Are you really here?"

He nodded and came close, his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. "For now, yes."

"Please stay, Andrew."

"You know I can't." he pushed her hair to the side and kissed the soft white place where her neck met shoulder. He couldn't stop kissing her, touching her.

She turned to him and pulled his face down to hers, bringing his mouth to her mouth. The kiss was soft, gentle. Then, her desire got the better of her. She parted her lips as her tongue flowed into his mouth. He pulled her body against his and let her dominate the kiss.

"Andrew, I needed this…" she whispered when they parted. "…I needed you."

"You have no idea." He loved having her hands in his hair, mussing it. "But I think it's for the best…"

"But I'm worse without you." She pleaded. "I've been so ill…struggling just to stay upright. Seeing you now, being with you is giving me a burst of energy. I don't think I can be without you now."

He half smiled, his dark green eyes filled with a certain private joy. He liked knowing she needed him that much – and he couldn't express how good it felt having her in his arms.

They slowly gravitated towards one another, him capturing her mouth with his own. He kissed her in earnest, tasting the sweetness of her, the little bit of heaven, the little sliver of home. He lifted her onto the counter to even the playing field, and stood between her parted legs, their eyes linked. She could see the hunger in his eyes and saw her own reflected back.

He came close and kissed her mouth, her chin, her neck. When he held her face in his hands, she smiled and let her eyelids slip over her café eyes as he kissed her nose, her dimples. She traced his blond brows with her fingertips, never wanting to lose contact.

His hands lifted her sweater up a bit, exposing her flat abdomen. He bent to kiss her torso, her bare belly. She squirmed a bit, her smile deepening as she slid her fingers through his full head of wheat colored hair. "You feel so good, Monica." He whispered against her skin. "So warm and perfect."

"Tess will wonder where I am…" she murmured as he busied himself with her various fastenings. "… she'll come looking for me…"

But he was too busy to reply, his mouth was all over her, leaving her dizzy with passion. His hands were grasping her, leaving marks on her parchment skin. Her head was spinning, and she wanted him inside her, more now than ever…

"Oh, Monica…"

"Andrew, please…"

And when he filled her, there was an intense silence. There was nothing but the two of them, still in a vacuum. His eyes stared inside her soul as she held onto his shoulders for leverage. He was holding her up against him, her legs wrapped around his waist. They held fast for fear of dropping off the precipice; they were both already so close to the edge when this all began. But then he moved, and her eyes rolled back.

Their bodies fit together like a glove, snug and exquisite, and he was clenching his teeth, desperate not to overwhelm her but insane with the need to pound into her. He bit his lip, practicing restraint with every fiber of his being.

She rested her forehead against his shoulder, breathing shallow breaths against his neck.

"Andrew…" she whispered, an urgency in her voice he had never heard before – and then a softer, pleading whimper. "…_Andrew_…"

And then they were moving together, a harsh desperate rhythm that seemed uncharacteristic for them. They weren't in control as much as they were being manipulated by their own yearning. His fingers tangled in her hair, and when they heard the muffled sound of Gloria's questioning voice on the other side of the door, they were miles away in the blink of an eye, so far away, so fast it was as if they'd never even been there…

. . . . .

When Monica opened her eyes, she found she was bathed in light. She smiled against it and shielded her eyes with her hand. Her naked body was warm in the natural glow, and she sat up on her elbow, searching for him through squinted eyes.

"I'm right here, Angel." He said, coming to kneel beside her. He smiled down at her and pushed long endless copper locks of her hair away from her face. He loved that about her, the way she changed like a chameleon. Her hair changed length and color, depending on her mood or assignment, but she was always so very lovely. And here in Ireland, her native home, she looked like a goddess on the emerald grass, just near the glen. "You're missing something." He grinned and then willed her into a lovely cream dress made of layered mesh. She looked beautiful in anything she wore, but especially now, tousled and freshly woken.

"Andrew, Tess will be angry."

"Don't worry about that now. I just want to know how you're feeling."

She smiled, touching his face with questing fingers. "I feel a wee bit green… but… not in any pain."

"Truthfully?"

Monica nodded. "Yes. Truthfully." She ran a hand across his blond hair. "I love you, dear, Andrew."

He smiled. "I know. I love you too."

She paused and then said, "There's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" His face turned serious.

She paused, trying to find the words. "I… I pricked my finger a week ago, and blood came out. I… bled. Like a human. And I vomited yesterday – and two days before that."

He looked simultaneously worried and puzzled. "Go on."

"I don't know, Andrew. There are strange things happening to me, human things. I don't know how to explain it."

"But you still have your… abilities?"

She nodded. "Yes. I think so."

"Have you told Tess?"

She shook her head. "No. I… didn't know what to say or even how to begin." She waited and studied his handsome face, looked into the forest colored eyes. She felt guilty for telling him, for worrying him, but she had no one else to confide in.

He picked up her hand and kissed the knuckles, his eyebrows knitted in concern. "Is there anything else?"

She shrugged. "I don't think so. But what do you think it means?"

He shook his head, at a loss. There was no logical explanation. He only knew that they were insatiable for each other - almost to the point of magnetism. What felt odd or wrong at first now felt purposeful and necessary. It was as if they were destined to be together in this way, drawn together physically and spiritually. He didn't want her hurt in any way, but a part of him knew that something good was happening, something wondrous and unique. Maybe they were meant to follow this path, wherever it lead…

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it has taken so long to update. Its been a very long and trying few weeks, but here it is. It's medium in length, I think. Hopefully, you enjoy it - and thanks, as always, for the lovely reviews. They help; they really do! :^)**

4.

It was dusk as the angel found herself alone with her own reflection in a full sized mirror at a nice hotel in Salt Lake City. The way the light came in through the window, grazing across mountain tops and over the natural ridges in the earth made the light dimmer here, less intense, filtered somehow. It was difficult to differentiate between morning and evening as she shed her robe and studied her pale human form, like a robe itself in a sense. It was yet another covering, but she was attached to it now, in more ways than one.

The narrow shoulders were a starting point, leading down to thin, lightly muscled arms, an evenly tapered waist and slender but sturdy legs. She was the same complexion from her head to her feet, an inconsistency that humans didn't share since sun had no real affect on her. She was a wisp of a human, really, her hair almost making up the most of her. It was longer now than it had ever been, so full and wild about her head, reddish brown handfuls of silk cascading down her back and across her shoulders. She really ought to cut some of it, but that never did any good. It only grew back faster, with a vengeance.

Something else had changed about her as well: her normally concave belly had taken on a slight bulge. It was as if she had eaten a small cake that hadn't digested correctly. When she turned to the side, it startled her – not because it was large, but it distorted the current image she had of herself – and the image everyone else had. She looked up to the heavens and whispered a prayer.

If she were a human, she'd be worried about tumors or illness. As an angel, her only hope was that God wasn't angry with her…

____________

There was a strange calm about her as she walked in silence, next to Gloria through the metro park. They were both placed on a temporary leave of absence until Monica recovered from whatever was ailing her, but she didn't mind. She admired the landscape here, the trees, the mountains, and the comfort of being with a friend and colleague. She felt completely at ease and warm, filled up somehow. For the first time in weeks she didn't feel thirsty or needful. She turned to her friend and was surprised to find Gloria already looking in her direction. She smiled and Gloria returned it, a curious expression on her face.

"What?"

Gloria shrugged, hesitant. "I was just thinking."

Monica looked at her, brown eyes probing. "Tell me."

And Gloria paused, searching for the words. "There's something odd… I can't put my finger on it, but I noticed it a few weeks ago. I didn't want to be presumptuous, but…"

The Irish angel looked off into the horizon. For the past several months, she had been carrying on a secret intense love affair with Andrew, the angel of Death. It had been all encompassing to the point of impairment, passionate, and almost painful at times… but now, it was as if the storm had passed. She missed him and needed him and wanted him, but the urgency was gone, replaced with something far more peaceful. She almost wished he were here to share it with her…

"I know you've been worried about me, Gloria." Monica instinctively rested an errant hand across her slightly convex belly. "But you don't have to worry anymore. I'm fine now."

"Tess warned me to not let you out of my sight or… well… she said I didn't want to know what the consequences might be, and I tend to agree with her. I mean, it's Tess after all."

Monica's laugh was musical – and infectious. Gloria grinned as she looked into the beautiful face of her colleague. There was a definite change in her. Gloria couldn't put her finger on it, mainly because angels weren't subject to the same laws of nature as humans, but she displayed many of the same peculiarities. She was almost glowing – as if from within. This wasn't her usual angelic glow. Her face seemed rounder somehow, more jolly. Her hair was fuller; in fact, everything about her seemed fuller even while Monica remained very slender. Sometimes, she hugged herself or rested an idle hand on her belly much like she was doing now. It was peculiar behavior – for an angel…

"Monica, have you seen Andrew lately?"

It was a random question and Monica shook her head, keeping her face neutral. "No, I haven't. Why?"

Gloria took mental notes. "Just wondering. He hasn't been around much."

"Well, you know his work keeps him very busy. He could be in Cairo now… or Indonesia, Paris or Hawaii…" and Monica's mind drifted to thoughts of them together, in the lush tropical jungles of Maui, his fingers buried in her hair as they kissed against a palm tree beneath the spray of waterfall. She had to shake the daydream free like a loose briar as Gloria cocked her head.

"Where did you go just then?" Gloria's voice was soft and inquisitive. She was so much like a child at times – and other times, it was like she was an angelic sister, a cosmic confidant.

"It was… a daydream." Monica sounded far away.

"About Andrew?"

The question, direct and simple startled the redhead angel out of her reverie. She coughed to break up the clutter in her head. "No. Of course not. Why would I daydream about Andrew?" Her tiny laugh sounded nervous to her own ears.

"Well, I don't know exactly. Since daydreams are simply visionary fantasies based on hopes of future scenarios or reminisces of past experiences, there are any number of reasons why you'd have one about Andrew. In fact, odds are that if you have daydreamed at least fifty times in your entire existence, you will have daydreamed about him at least once anyway – only because he's a close figure in your life…"

Monica didn't fault Gloria for her analysis or even for being so technical about it, but the observation was only serving to make Monica anxious. "Please, Gloria, lets… go and find a place to sit. I suddenly feel a wee bit tired."

"Oh! Of course. I'm so sorry." She headed towards a park bench where she and Monica took a load off. "Forgive me. I tend to go off on a tangent."

Monica grinned at her. "That's one of the things I love about you. And I'm enjoying this time together. It's good having a friend to talk to."

Gloria nodded. "I agree. I feel the same way. You're my first real friend… who's also my colleague…"

Monica smiled. The silence between them was comfortable, but Monica could sense there was a question on the edge of Gloria's tongue and it was nagging at her, begging to be set free. Her hands fiddled in her lap until Monica reached over and stilled them.

"It's alright, Gloria. You can say whatever is on your mind." Monica wondered if she might regret this decision later…

"It's nothing, really…" Gloria's round face seemed nervous to breach the subject – but there was also an eagerness about her. "…I just… you seem…"

"Different?" Monica nudged. She couldn't help herself. A small part of her needed to open up about this, but she wondered just how 'in depth' she should go. "To tell you the truth, Gloria, I _feel_ different."

"Okay. So, I'm not just imagining it. I thought maybe I was looking into it too deeply or… I dunno… just being overly analytical again, but there is a definite change in you. I can't put my finger on it. I mean, it's a subtle change, but… it's also noticeable."

Monica looked off into the vast distance. She knew that if she confided in Gloria, it would only be a matter of time before Tess found out, and she couldn't take that risk. Maybe Tess would be angry – even more so than usual. Maybe she wouldn't want to work with her anymore. Maybe she'd ask to be paired with another angel. The thought of that made Monica shudder. She couldn't imagine Tess not wanting her. She couldn't imagine a life without her any more than she could imagine it without Andrew. The thought of it made tears spring to her eyes, and she averted her face so that Gloria couldn't see, but it was too late… a small sob escaped her lips, and Gloria noticed it. It was a blessing and a curse that Gloria was so clever.

"Monica?" her voice had taken on a gentle caring tone. "What is it?"

The redhead angel shook her head, afraid to speak. Gloria was very perceptive, and she knew that she could rely on her if need be; she'd simply have to worry about the Tess aspect at a later time. Right now, however, she needed someone to lean on, to confide in, to trust.

With a trembling hand, she reached for Gloria's and brought it to her belly, right above her navel. She shut her eyes and waited for Gloria to feel what she had already felt and pondered over for the past two or so weeks. When Gloria moved her hand away, as if burned, Monica opened her eyes and looked at her.

"Oh, my God in heaven…" Gloria's voice was an astounded whisper. "… Monica, what…"

Being an angel, there was a disjointedness to the way they spoke because words weren't always needed. Angels had a silent mystical way of communicating much like their means of travel or intuition. Monica knew that Gloria was shocked to feel the twin beats of human heart beneath her breast, (something only an angel would feel with a naked hand) as if shadowed or mirrored in some way. Monica couldn't explain it and hoped maybe Gloria had an explanation.

"You've read about this kind of thing?"

Gloria seemed speechless. "I… I don't know. I mean, maybe it's… a simple irregular heartbeat … a kind of palpitation. Then again, I guess it could be a murmur. A sort of odd sound caused by…"

"But its nothing to worry about, right?" Monica didn't want to seem worried, but Gloria's technical jargon was causing her to panic, slightly.

"I wouldn't think so. Technically, your existence isn't based on the working function of your internal organs. They only exist to keep your human form authentic, so to speak. Then again… I did feel two distinct heartbeats… yours obviously - and another one, almost as if someone else were inside you…"

"Don't say that!" Monica was shocked at her own response. She covered her mouth with her hand.

Gloria took a deep breath and slid her glasses down the bridge of her nose. Somehow, during the course of their conversation, they had become fogged. She wiped them with the edge of her sleeve before regarding her friend and colleague. "Do you want my honest opinion?"

Monica paused. Her eyes were wet, but her face was stone serious. She felt frightened but also, somehow, expectant. She didn't want to hear Gloria's hypothesis even while a part of her was hoping to hear a certain combination of words… hoping…

"I think…" Gloria took a deep breath, afraid to utter the words aloud. "… please don't hit me, Monica, but it seems like… you're pregnant." Gloria flushed pink as she said it, and a tear slipped from Monica's eye.

"Don't say that…" she repeated in a weak voice. "…please."

"Monica, what I'm suggesting would be a virtual impossibility since angels don't procreate in the way that humans do. We don't even possess a concept of sexuality that would lead to… that sort of condition. But all signs point towards it: the weakness you've been feeling, the fatigue, vomiting, and now this… your stomach…"

Monica shook her head, slowly and felt a slight dizziness. "Please, Gloria, no more."

"I'm sorry. Did I say something wrong?"

"No…" Monica wasn't sure how to feel, but she suddenly felt ashen, and then it all made sense. "… you've said something right."

She didn't want to hear any more. She stood and was about to leave when Gloria placed a hand on her arm.

"Please, don't leave, Monica." She looked more worried than anything. "I can help you. I've read all about it. I think I know what to do. If… well… if you really are preg…"

"Don't say those words again, Gloria, please…" Monica felt bile rising in her throat and had to swallow hard to keep it down.

There was a strangeness about this that didn't sit well with her even while a part of her wanted to thank God for the miracle he had bestowed upon her. No one ever knew that it had always been her dream to become a mother, to carry a child, to experience motherhood only the way that humans could – but she wasn't sure this was completely legit. Maybe it was some kind of lesson to be learned… the way Tess' Alzheimer's had been. Maybe it wasn't such a joyous occasion. The fear gripped her from the inside, and she felt crippled by it.

Gloria was there beside her in an instant, holding her up. "Monica, I know that God would never hurt us because he loves us and he wants the best for us. He wouldn't make you suffer needlessly."

Monica wanted to believe the words, but there was also the uncertainty she felt that came from her secret love affair with Andrew. She couldn't tell Gloria even though it would be obvious now… and she wouldn't be able to hide this truth from Tess much longer, either…

* * *

On the Indian Sea, the waters had gotten fierce. The crab fishermen were stumbling back and forth across the deck, scrambling to secure themselves as Andrew and Adam stood nearly motionless, merely swaying against the current. Andrew's blond hair was wet and flyaway as he waited on word, and Adam, his face wet with ocean spray grinned over at his compatriot.

"This is like old times." He shouted across to him.

Andrew exhaled and shook his head. "I have a bad feeling about this…"

"Well, I have a _good_ feeling about this. If this piece of crap watercraft was going to capsize, it would have done already…"

Andrew looked over into those hopeful blue pools and returned the grin. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed working with Adam until he actually found himself in the throngs with him, deep in the trenches, buried to their necks in death or near-death. Adam had been at this a lot longer than Andrew and so he provided a certain brotherly comfort in these times. It made the job a lot easier…

The two angels approached the bow of the ship and Andrew looked into the angry indigo sky. His green eyes were focused on the heavens, a thin sliver of light blue through the darkness.

"Penny for your thoughts." Adam's deep voice brought Andrew back to Earth.

"I was just… thinking…"

Adam grinned. His facial hair was overgrown like a man who had been stranded on an island for a few days. It suited him, though. "Thinking… about how much you love the ocean? Yeah. Me too."

Andrew placed his hands on the rusted railing. He turned to look at his friend and colleague. It was as if something was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't speak it aloud. There was a fear of exposing too much, of saying the wrong thing, but Adam's water colored eyes were so kind and understanding… and then the sky opened up, and the sun shone through. The waters became calm and steady, as if by magic.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Adam cocked his head and got this expression on his face like Andrew was suddenly turning into a space alien. He stammered, unsure how to reply. "I… I… I don't really know how to answer that, Andrew."

"Forgive me. That was such a stupid question. Forget I asked."

And then Adam smirked beneath his beard. "I'd like to say that I had the privilege of being in love, but that's usually a concession reserved for them, the humans." He shook his head. "I've never experienced it, and I've never met an angel who has."

Andrew sighed, his handsome face grave. He hesitated before murmuring. "You've met one now."

Their eyes met, but Adam didn't look surprised at all. This unsettled Andrew even worse than having admitted to the truth. "I knew it." He said in a soft voice. "You had the same look they get. The weepy, sad, mopey face, the distraction. I figured it must be something."

"I don't know what to do about it." Andrew sighed. "It feels so right when I'm with her."

"If it feels right, then it probably is. You have the gift of objectivity because you're not human. However, this is a very special case…"

"I can't stop thinking about her, and when we're together… it's like I'm losing myself. I've never been that kind of angel, but lately, I don't know…"

Adam got a quirky look on his face then and nudged Andrew in the ribs. "I know you'll come out of this okay. Monica is a perfect match for you."

And Andrew turned suddenly, stunned. "You know?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "Don't give me that look. I wasn't born yesterday. Anyone could see your attachment to her. The love between you is… very potent."

"How much do you know?" Now Andrew felt green and it had nothing to do with the rolling waves beneath them.

The elder angel grinned. "I know enough…"

And Andrew turned his hazel eyes towards the heavens and silently begged for guidance. It was all unfolding, slowly but surely. Of course God was all seeing and all powerful, so it was never an issue of hiding from Him, but now Adam knew… and that meant that it would only be a matter of time before Tess found out. The worst part of it was that Andrew had no idea how they would proceed. Would this be acceptable to the highest angels or would they be ordered to end their love affair? The thought of never being with her again was like having his heart ripped out of his chest and torn to shreds…

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

_**First, I'd like to apologize for the LONG delay! lol. I never meant to take so long to update, but stuff (as usual) got in the way, and this chapter sorta beat me up and held me captive and... well... I finally came out on top, I think. XD! Hopefully, it is up to standards, and I promise I won't keep anyone waiting that long again. In fact, I am already started on the next chapter! yay! Thanks to my readers for your patience. **_

5.

It was almost like old times. Tess was up front, behind the wheel of her long red prized possession, the Cadillac, lecturing Gloria on the delicacies of interacting with humans. Meanwhile, in the backseat, Monica sat next to Andrew, as far from him as she could possibly be, almost pressed against the door. Andrew sat at the opposite end, staring out the window, hoping the crackle of romantic tension couldn't be heard over the roar of the engine.

"Furthermore, angel baby, humans rarely if ever take a liking to the direct approach." She turned to glance next to her at the dark-haired angel. "They prefer beating around the bush, so to speak. Taking the long way about the subject."

"Oh." Gloria was slowly grasping the concept. "So, you mean, I shouldn't be direct?"

"Well, sometimes directness is the only way. And sometimes, there's no time for anything but!" She glanced in her rearview mirror at Monica who had chosen this moment to look up. Their eyes met, and Monica felt the pound of her heart. She managed a small smile before lowering her eyes to the folded hands in her lap.

Beside her, Andrew was tapping his foot lightly. It ached not to be able to touch her, but he knew a lot about restraint, and so it was with practiced ease that he kept his hands to himself. It didn't help that she looked so radiant today, her red hair so full and lush about her head, draped elegantly over one shoulder. Her sharp eyebrows were only slightly furrowed against the brightness of the day. She looked deeply lost in her thoughts, and he wanted to make an inquiry, but decided against it. The tiniest gesture would trigger Tess like a homing device. She seemed to be watching them very closely but in such a way that it didn't look like she was watching them.

"Angel babies, our assignment today will be very difficult on us all. There is… a little orphanage at the edge of town. The last of its kind…"

"Oh. I recall doing extensive research on the orphanages. They began around about the first century, right? Initially, they were created for the care of widowed mothers and the children of fallen soldiers, but then became facilities specifically for parentless children…"

"That is correct, baby." Tess turned down a long lonely road. "And we're about to visit one of the very few orphanages to remain standing in North America. There is one small girl in particular who is very sick. She doesn't have much time left on this Earth before she will join her Father in heaven."

Gloria sank back into her seat, her face distraught. "Oh. Well. That explains Andrew."

"But why are so many angels needed for one small child?" Monica's voice was very faint and song-like. "Surely Andrew could handle this wee one by himself?"

"Surely, you're not questioning the Father's motives, Miss Wings?" and there was an edge to her voice that let Monica know not to challenge it. "There is a reason for everything."

And as Tess turned into the drive that sat right in front of the somber brick building, she parked the car and gave them a supportive nod. "Now, lets get to work, my little angels."

Tess and Gloria were the first to get out and head up the stone steps to the entrance while Andrew and Monica lingered a bit behind.

"I don't think I can do this, Andrew." Monica's brown eyes focused on the structure of the home, with its massive bricks, settled in time, graying and weathered and yet so constant. He placed a hand at the small of her back.

"Of course you can do this. You're a beautiful angel, and God is counting on you to radiate His light for all who needs it. That has to outshine your fear and uncertainty."

"I don't want to fail." She whispered, a chill going up her spine.

"You won't fail." The wind played in his blond hair as he awarded her a small smile, giving him a charmingly boyish appearance. "You can't. And anyway, you won't have time to fail." His words sent another chill down her spine, but she chose to ignore it.

The halls were long and hollow, giving the place a dark, dreary atmosphere. The lighting was somber and the silence was lonely. Andrew and Monica caught up with Tess and Gloria at the registration office where they introduced themselves to Maryellen, the director, as the temporary staff sent over from "the agency".

"Ah! Good, you're here!" Maryellen was an older plump woman who wore a periwinkle suit and her raven hair tied into a high bun like a beehive. Her red lipstick smile was friendly and she was a stark contrast to her surroundings which seemed almost dead. Clearly Maryellen was the backbone of this place. "We're in dire need of your help! Come, right this way!"

The angels followed Maryellen down a hall as she explained the mission statement, to give every child a peaceful place of upbringing and education, and comfort in their time of need. She spoke animatedly and seemed to take to Tess very well which was just as well since Gloria was so busy studying everything she could take in without overloading a circuit.

Andrew kept his eye on Monica. She was different somehow, the way she carried herself. He had only been away from her for a few weeks, and in that time, she had changed just slightly enough that only someone very close to her would notice. To him, it stood out like a flashing neon sign because he knew her so well and was so in tune with her. She was moving as if underwater, almost floating. There was a dreamlike quality about her as well, something unmistakably different. Whenever he caught her eye, she gave him one of her brilliant smiles, a perfunctory gesture, obviously, because she was masking her emotions from him, holding something back. It wasn't like her to be secretive, and so whatever it was must be a huge deal. Still, it had him worried.

When they arrived at the toddler recreation room, the children all turned towards the door and looked at them with wide, disbelieving eyes. It was a little known fact that babies could see angels in their true form, the real angels underneath the mask, and so it was no surprise that they all began flocking them, babbling, laughing, doing whatever they could to be near them. It was good that they could scarcely speak real sentences yet or even knew what to call an angel.

"Oh, Goodness!" Maryellen exclaimed as she was almost knocked down by a tiny little two year-old, "I've never seen them behave this way! You all must be wearing candy-scented perfumes!" she lifted one small boy into her arms. He was the color of maple syrup and had a full head of black curls. He was reaching past Maryellen to get at Gloria.

"Hello, little one." Gloria held him in her embrace and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. "You're a sweet little boy, aren't you?"

"His name is Reginald. He's usually… ah…well… I don't know what's gotten into him today. He doesn't readily take to strangers."

"They are enthusiastic, aren't they?" Tess winked at Andrew as he held a baby in each arm, grinning as the one tugged on his blond locks.

"They're practically in a frenzy today!" Maryellen found it curious but amusing as well. "I've never seen them like this."

She managed to disentangle herself from the throngs of swarming babies and led the angels to another room where roughly a dozen older children lounged on the rug. Some played board games or video games. Most of the others busied themselves with puzzles or simply did nothing. Monica noted how well-behaved they seemed, how quiet and composed. These children were at least five or six years old, she surmised and no one was fighting or disagreeing.

"They're very mild-mannered." She noted out loud to Maryellen.

"Oh yes, well, they are rewarded for good behavior. Treats and movies. All kinds of fun."

Monica smiled, and as she did, one little girl approached her. "My name is Olivia. Who are you?"

Monica kneeled down to talk to her and smiled. "I'm Monica. It's very nice to meet you."

"I'm five years old." She said, her white blond hair was cut short in a pixie style about her head. Her eyes were almost clear blue. She seemed tired and frail, certainly smaller then the other children. "I don't like video games."

Monica nodded. "I don't much care for them either. Do you like dollies?"

Olivia shrugged one narrow shoulder. "I don't know."

And then Monica reached for one out of the toy box and held it up to her. "This one is lovely – like you. Eyes and all."

Monica put the little doll to Olivia's face and let it nuzzle her as she giggled, a sound like wind chimes. Monica's heart filled with gladness at the sound.

"I like you." Olivia said, cheeks flushing with heat. "You're pretty."

"And so are you, my wee angel."

Nearby, Andrew stood watching the exchange. He tried to ignore the instinct that came over him, the telltale signal, the call. It would be Olivia he carried home in his arms to rest at the altar of God. He wanted to tell Monica not to get attached, but it was too late. She was already holding the girl in a motherly embrace. It ached him to his core, but at least they would have a small bit of time together…

Outside, Tess planned out which activities they would do with the children as Monica came and sat next to her on a bench. She missed Tess' singing, her sweetly harmonious voice and her motherly embrace, but she was fearful of it now. If she got too close to Tess, the elderly angel would know; she would feel. Tess was very intuitive like that. Their eyes linked, and Tess cocked her head.

"What's that look, Miss wings?"

Monica shrugged and tried to keep her emotions at bay. She was aching for the closeness of a friend, but she couldn't have it now. Also, any contact with Andrew would arouse suspicion and Tess was far too suspicious already.

"I was just thinking. About the children."

"Yes, God's little children. They are beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes, Tess, they are. But they seem very tired, all of them, don't they?" Monica pondered her own question. "it's like they're all ill."

"Well, not all of them – but some of them. And it's not what you think it is, angel girl. And there's nothing natural about it, either."

Now, Monica's mind was buzzing. She wondered what Tess' words meant. Her mentor angel was wise beyond her years – and she already had more than a millennia under her belt! She wondered what she could mean by 'not natural'. And then she felt a sudden heave at the back of her throat. Her own secret rearing its mischievous little head.

"Excuse me, Tess." She said, rushing off towards the building, leaving Tess baffled and concerned. As she passed the little playground, she caught sight of Andrew pushing Olivia on a swing and thought how nice it was for him to bond with the children, how lovely a caseworker he made.

Once she found the ladies room, she knelt down at a stall and cradled the toilet bowl, but nothing came. It was a false alarm. After several seconds of staying that way, of shutting her eyes so tight and taking deep breaths, the feeling abated.

She pulled herself upright and went to the sink, putting cold water on her face. When she opened her eyes, he was there. Her smile was slight as she met his gaze.

"Andrew, this is a ladies room."

He smirked. "You never complained before." He came close and waited, not touching her. They were so close, she felt her heart start to pound in her chest. He smelled wonderful, like heaven, like eternity. "I missed you."

She exhaled. "I missed you too." She couldn't stand it any longer and placed a hand on his chest, feeling his warmth, taking comfort in it. "Oh, Andrew…"

He searched her café eyes. "There's something you're not telling me."

She lowered her gaze and shook her head, slightly. "I… I can't…"

Now he lifted her chin so she was looking into his eyes. "You're afraid, but you don't have to be. I'm here with you. I'm your friend, and I love you."

She couldn't hold back any longer; she closed the gap between them and sank into his embrace. "Andrew, please. Give me time to understand this."

"Understand what?" He whispered into her hair.

And she couldn't find the words, so she reached up and captured his mouth with her own, let her mouth meld with his. His arms wrapped around her, and she let him envelope her. He was so strong and exquisite against her, she felt her knees go weak and pulled away from him abruptly.

"Andrew, I can't be without you. It's not good for me."

He looked into her eyes, caressing her cheek with his fingers. "I'm here now, angel."

"I think it's very important for you to be near me." She held her hand against his chest. "I can't explain it, but…"

"Please try." He whispered, holding her cheek in the palm of his warm hand.

But she wasn't ready yet. "Later, Andrew. I promise you."

He didn't want to accept that, but he had no choice. He gave her a nod of acquiescence.

. . . .

It was early evening as Gloria stood in a doorway, watching the children be put to bed by Maryellen's assistants. There was a hush about the group as another assistant helped to pass out medicine to all the children, and Gloria found it odd that they all needed medicine. Especially since not all of the children were ill.

"Why do you give them all Benadryl?" Gloria cocked her head at one assistant. "They're not in need of medicine this strong. In fact, it can cause serious injury given in such high doses."

"Oh," The assistant smiled to reassure Gloria. "Maryellen is a nurse, so she tells us it's okay to help them sleep through the night. Some of them suffer from terrible nightmares due to the circumstances that led them to be here." She seemed convinced. "It's alright. It's good for them."

"Maryellen is a nurse?" Gloria was confused. "I didn't read that in her file."

"You read Maryellen's file?" the second assistant seemed shocked.

"I read everything. When it's relevant – or even when it's not." Gloria took the bottle from the girl and read the label. "This medicine is not to be given to children only to help them sleep. In fact, it shouldn't even be given to children this little at all. It can cause serious damage."

"Oh." The two girls looked alarmed now. "We had no idea…" And some of the children were staring up at them with wide eyes. They were small and confused, some of them drugged. Gloria wondered how long they had been getting medicine like this and she wondered how often. Now she understood why they spent days in a lull, listless and gloomy. She sent the assistants away and called for Tess…

. . . . . .

In another room, Monica held Olivia in her arms, rocking her gently. Her round clear eyes were focused and rimmed in red. She had woken out of a terrible dream. Her tiny pale body was damp with sweat as Monica caressed her with a soothing cool sponge.

"Sing me a lullaby?" the little girl's voice was tinny and frail.

Monica smiled sadly. "I'm so sorry. I don't… well… I don't sing very well."

Olivia's smile was crooked as she held onto Monica's shirt. "I bet you sing pretty. Just like a angel." Olivia shivered. "My mommy is in heaven with the angels now." She reached up and touched Monica's face with her little fingers. "Someday I'm gonna see her too."

Monica held her closer and nuzzled her little face. She was rocking her and she began to hum a sweet little hymn she had learned from Tess, and to her surprise, she didn't make a mess of it. In fact, she hummed it so sweetly that soon Olivia was slumbering in her arms, her hands still clinging to Monica's sleeves.

It was early when the first light shone into the nursery, and Monica heard Tess' voice echoing down the halls. She laid Olivia onto her bed and followed the sound of her voice. She was disheveled from sitting in the same position all night, holding the girl, but otherwise she hadn't slept and she didn't feel any worse for wear. In fact, she felt refreshed. It was nice having held a child so close to her. It felt natural, somehow.

"…And furthermore, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, Miss Maryellen!" Tess was confronting the director as Gloria looked on.

"Tess, what happened?" Monica stood in the doorway, her eyes confused.

Gloria looked at her, a saddened expression on her face. "She's been drugging the children."

"What?"

"It's not what it looks like." Maryellen suddenly didn't look so jovial or even motherly. Instead, she looked haggard and a little frenzied. "I needed to keep order here!"

"At the risk of those babies' lives?" Tess had a death glare, and Monica felt utterly confused. She had been so caught up with Olivia that she hadn't even noticed there was anything wrong. On the other hand, they all did seem a little out of it…

"Listen, I was only doing my job! Funding is so tight. It's very difficult running a place like this, being short-staffed…" she paused, exhaled. She looked defeated. "I never meant to hurt anyone…"

"But you did…" the angels as well as Maryellen all turned towards the sound of Andrew's voice. He held her in his arms, little Olivia. She was limp and white as parchment. Her eyelids fluttered over her crystal eyes. "…she needs a doctor."

Monica stood frozen in her place as she looked on. It was as if someone had stolen her voice, her heart. Something in Andrew's face told her that a doctor wouldn't help this child now.

"Andrew?" she mouthed the words, and he shook his head. His green eyes were apologetic, but he needed to do his job now, to see little Olivia through this until it was all over. His issues with Monica would have to wait…

. . . . .

At the hospital, Andrew sat beside Olivia's bed, caressing the damp blond ringlets. She had come into their lives so fast, it was a wonder that it ached so much to see her leaving as quickly as she had come. He was a strong angel, used to his line of work, but it still hurt. However, Monica was undone. So much so, in fact, that she hadn't even come inside the hospital. She couldn't find the strength to do it.

"Where is that angel?" Tess seemed angry with Gloria for having let Monica slip out of her sight again.

Gloria shrugged. "I think she's… grieving? She was very sad about Olivia."

"That doesn't give her an excuse to skip out on this. I have had enough of her recent behavior…"

"Oh, please, Tess. Don't be angry with her… she's… going through a lot right now." Gloria tried to speak carefully, but she felt that maybe she had spoken too much already.

Now Tess put her hands on her hips and glared silently into Gloria's eyes, which made the young angel cower. "You know, actually I… I think Monica is right… outside. I-I'll go and get her now. Okay?" and she hastily got away from Tess' probing glare.

In another room, Maryellen and her assistants were being questioned by social workers and policemen. A small army of city officials had been sent to the orphanage to collect the children and bring them to another facility where they could be treated and cared for.

Gloria came into Olivia's room and watched as Andrew whispered words of comfort to the unconscious child. He was preparing her for her long journey home, and then he turned, and Gloria could see that there were tears in his eyes.

"This didn't have to happen." He said to her. "I'll never understand humans. Never in a million years."

"Yes. Well. They're so full of contradictions." Gloria came closer, looking down on the small girl. "In the one instance, their ability to love one another is the most powerful force in all of human existence. And on the other hand, the carelessness that comes from such love… or lack thereof, is something akin to astonishment."

Andrew shook his head, slowly. He hated the fact that a small child had to die because of carelessness – and he wondered how someone could NOT love this small child – or ANY child. "Where's Monica?"

Gloria considered him, and she immediately recognized the love in his eyes because she had seen it in Monica's eyes whenever his name was mentioned even though she tried to hide it. It filled her with a certain gladness and a certain hope for humanity – and for everyone. "She's outside near the front entrance. I'll stay with Olivia, if you want."

Andrew nodded, grateful. "Thank you, Gloria. I won't be long."

Outside on the steps, Monica was looking up at the morning sky. Her eyes were round and wet, chocolate pools of sorrow. She was hugging herself when Andrew approached, and she didn't need to turn to know he was there.

"Monica…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she couldn't face him. It hurt too much, the internal struggle. Her anger at him for not telling her about Olivia and her anguish at needing to be near him.

"I didn't want to hurt you." He said, his voice soft. "Please understand, angel. I thought I was protecting you."

"You knew all along…" her lip was trembling. "… you let me love her…"

Now he was next to her, holding her in a firm supportive grip, his hands on her arms. His mouth was right next to her ear. "Tell me you wouldn't have loved her anyway."

She tried to dispute it, but she knew he was right. Nothing could have kept her from loving Olivia. In fact, knowing would have made her that much more attached. "Please, don't take her, Andrew." Monica's voice was a puff of breath on the air. "Please."

"Don't do this to me." He heard his own voice crack. "You know I have no control…"

She turned in his arms and sank into him, his hand in her hair, her face buried in his chest. There were no words to convey the pain she felt. She tried, but nothing would come – and then he pulled back to look into her eyes. She couldn't turn away from him; it was as if she were under his spell.

"Andrew…"

"I'm not the only angel here keeping secrets." His expression was so serious, she felt a flush heat her skin. She couldn't read his expression, and it frightened her. "When were you going to tell me?"

She finally broke his gaze, let her eyes shift to the ground. "I… I didn't know how…"

"How long?" his voice was gentle but so serious, almost clinical.

She shook her head, her long red hair spilling over her shoulder. "I don't know. I don't even know what it means."

Now, he let a slight trace of a smile ghost his features. "It means we're having a baby…" and he caressed her cheek with his tender hand. "But first, I have a case to finish." A hardness had crept into his voice, and she knew he was turning professional so he wouldn't be pulled down into despair with the passing of little Olivia. "Come inside with me."

She hesitated before nodding, slightly. There was nothing she could deny him…

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you to everyone who continues to follow this fic. I admit, it has been difficult to find time to write but when i do, this story is my main focus. Here is another chapter and I hope you enjoy. Also, thank you for the kind reviews. I greatly appreciate them! **

6.

It was the first time they had been intimate since Andrew had taken her to Ireland several weeks ago, and now they were both getting used to the changes. Monica's skin was warm to the touch, almost hot, but also very soft, like silk. Andrew let his fingertips drag along her body, loving the feel of her against him. His mouth brushed the back of her neck as he lay pressed against her, an arm draped over her middle. She was fuller but also, somehow as small as ever. She seemed frail but also stronger, human, but angelic. She was a living, breathing contradiction, a heavenly being who also throbbed with the beat of two human hearts: her own and her unborn child's.

"Monica…" he whispered as he felt her arch against him, the friction causing a tremor to travel up his spine. And her smile was slow, a tease. His fingers tangled in her hair as she rested her head back against his shoulder.

"I don't know what's happening to me, Andrew." Her voice was a sigh. "I feel so filled up."

He chuckled mischievously against her. "You _are_ filled up…"

The blush that came over her skin was warm and prickly. Wherever he touched her, her nerve endings caught fire and sent little pinpricks of electric throughout her body. Being physically joined with him was second nature now, like walking or breathing. She shut her eyes and let him move against her, from behind. His hands splayed against her convex belly, his mouth against her neck. And then he turned her face and kissed her mouth, deeply, savoring the taste of her, the sweetness, the high-pitched whine of her needy whimper.

In heaven time had no meaning. It was forever, endless perfection. They stayed connected as long as they wanted or until Andrew was called away and was suddenly bound by the confines of earthly time.

Monica had no way of knowing how long she had been sleeping when she awoke alone in a soft bed layered with the softest comforters. It was Gloria who stood in the doorway, her eyes roaming over her as if examining, and Monica realized her sheet had fallen away.

"Your stomach is so round now." Gloria seemed in awe. "It's kind of shaped like… a basketball."

Monica laughed right in the middle of yawning which caused her to hiccup. Having Gloria around was always entertaining, and she grinned at her now.

"You're not going to try and toss me into a wee basket, are you?"

And Gloria's eyebrows raised into her hairline. "Oh, gosh no! I would never… I mean… that would be a virtual impossibility. Unless, of course, the basket was sized to your specific parameters. But, I guess I still wouldn't because that would be considered… inappropriate?"

"It was a joke, Gloria." Monica, smirked, pulling on a soft fuzzy robe that was overly large on her. "Have you seen Tess? Is she working?"

Gloria nodded. "Yes, she and Adam are on an assignment in Madagascar."

"Oh. Interesting." Monica combed fingers through her thick long hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. "Madagascar is quite a lovely little island."

"I agree." Gloria's mind drifted. "I've always been curious about Madagascar – and not just for the lemurs, although I admit I am very interested in animal life…"

The older angel agreed. "Yes. Well, there is something to be said for God's four-legged creatures." Monica was watching Gloria with a fond smile. "Gloria, is there a particular reason why you came by?"

Now Gloria blushed and shrugged. Her eyes seemed to dart now. "I… I just thought I'd come along and check in on you. I mean, Tess did ask that I keep an eye… but not because of anything bad. I think she's just concerned…"

Monica sighed and nodded. "Yes. It must be a terrible burden on you, Gloria, keeping my secret from Tess. I apologize for putting you in that position."

Gloria wasn't sure what to say so she came over and sat next to Monica. "I don't mind keeping a secret. I just… I wonder why you want to keep it from her if it's not a bad thing. Surely Tess will be glad for you."

"I don't know if she will be glad. I don't know how she will react at all." Monica turned to look at Gloria. "I only know that I don't want to lose her as my friend."

"Tess wouldn't stop being your friend." Gloria felt certain of this. "Maybe it would only strengthen your friendship. She would want to be a part of this."

"Yes, but I don't know that." Monica's uncertainty was causing her head to throb as well as her heart. "Tess isn't just a friend. She's like… a mother. You understand?"

Gloria took a moment to process that information. "A mother? A maternal figure. A mentor but also a close personal relation, the first person a child connects with?"

"In a sense, yes. And I want her to be proud of me. I don't want to disappoint her, and this…" Monica gestured at her stomach. "… Tess may not take to this new revelation."

"But how will you keep it from her?"

Monica had given it much thought, but she had never spoken it aloud – not even to Andrew. "I'm going to go away for a time, until my baby is born…"

"No!" Gloria stood and tried to keep the emotion out of her voice. "Monica, you can't leave. What will we do? What will _I_ do? You're the first angel I ever knew, and you're my friend..."

"It's alright, Gloria." Monica stood and tried to comfort the young angel. "You'll be fine. It won't be long, I assure you. Look how far I've come already and it's only been a few months. I can already feel the baby moving. Here…" she took Gloria's hand and let it rest against the round place where her stomach was so fertile like a ripe fruit.

Gloria's hand was cool and timid against her skin, but her face was determined and scientific. Gloria was always hungry for knowledge, which was a good thing in this instant. When the flutter of tiny feet pushed against the skin, Gloria started, her eyes wide with wonder.

"It kicked." Her voice was in awe, and Monica smiled at her. "It kicked me, Monica!"

"Yes, it did." She nodded. "I don't know for certain, but I think it's a boy."

"What will you name it?" Gloria put her hand back onto Monica's belly, hoping to feel the little kick again. "Something celestial?"

Monica laughed softly. "I don't know. It's not only my decision…"

. . . . . . . .

Miles away in a tiny village off the mainland of Normandy, Andrew spoke French to a small group of frightened labor workers. He waited until the right moment and Heaven's light flowed through him. He held an injured worker in his arms and let them know he would be escorting him home to the Promised Land.

Nearby, Rafael also spoke the comforting words of Christ as he reassured the people of this village that they were messengers from God who meant no harm. The tears flowed freely then as a few of the men fell to their knees and bowed their heads in awe and disbelief. After all, most had never seen a real angel.

The journey to heaven was a brief one as Rafael and Andrew made the trek together. The fallen man could now walk on his own, his strength and his faith fully restored.

"Merci…" he whispered in a trembling voice as both angels nodded and sent him on his way, towards Heaven's light. When they saw him off, Rafael turned to look at Andrew and smiled a knowing smile.

"You do good work, Andrew. I am honored to be in your presence."

"Ok." Andrew's green eyes were humble as he warded off the comment. "Thank you. I think. Where does this come from?"

The smaller angel shrugged a narrow shoulder, his heavenly light adding luster to his ink-colored curls. "I dunno. I just thought about how we don't work together that often. You're considered one of the highest angels, the work you do, the importance of it, means so much to so many…"

Andrew offered a small smile. "That's very kind of you to say, Rafael. But don't diminish your own importance. There are many saved souls because of your own ability to do God's work."

Rafael paused and looked at Andrew. "I learned a lot from you. I haven't been around as long as some other angels, but I have a few centuries under my belt…"

Andrew chuckled. "Believe me, that's a good start!"

"But there's so much I still want to do." Rafael was looking at the world as though he were a child, with bright dark eyes, optimistic and filled with excitement. "Like… go jet-skiing!"

"That gets old. Fast!"

"Write my own hymn…"

"Well, maybe Tess could help you with that one."

"Fall in love."

Andrew started to remark but held his tongue. Instead, he shoved hands in pockets and waited. Surely Rafael was joking. Love, romantic love, wasn't a usual aspiration for an angel. In fact, he had fallen for Monica on accident, when he wasn't paying attention, when he wasn't expecting it. He didn't even know angels could love in that manner. Now Rafael was looking at him, wonder written into the boyish planes of his face.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Andrew shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

"It's that look on your face. Like… you're holding something back."

Andrew shook his head. "I'm not. I just… found it odd that you would aspire to love someone in that way. It's unusual."

They were walking through a field on Earth and they had come to a babbling glen. Andrew kicked a pebble into the water, hoping to distract himself from this conversation so he could kind of listen and nod without having to engage himself.

"Well, the humans do it all the time. Granted, they were built for that kind of love, but I always wondered: what if two angels fell in love? Real romantic love?"

Andrew shrugged. "That would be something amazing." He coughed. "I think."

Now Rafael turned and looked directly at Andrew. "For instance, what if you and Monica fell in love?"

Now Andrew choked and then coughed, surprise catching him off guard. "What?! Rafael, I…I don't know what say….?"

"I mean no harm. You're just the first two angels who come to mind when I think of compatibility. And you're both so close. What if you fell in love with her? Would you even recognize it? Are we made to know that kind of love or will we always be ignorant of it, immune to it?"

Andrew shrugged and pretended to be oblivious when all he could think of was her and her beautiful smile and her dimples and her full lush hair. Her voice was the softest and sweetest he had ever known while her small hands and small body seemed made to touch him, to receive him.

"I don't know…" he answered, his voice so far away.

. . . . . .

Later, when he went to Monica's place to hug her, to wrap his arms around her and tell her how much he had missed her and loved her, he found emptiness instead of her.

He searched everywhere she might be and even some places she wouldn't have been, but he came up empty again.

"Gloria," he found the little angel in the unlikeliest of places, outside of a saloon in Austin, Texas, waiting for Tess to bring her new orders. "Have you seen Monica?"

Gloria shook her head and turned away from him. "No. I haven't. She's… taking a sabbatical, I think."

"Well, that's insane. She wouldn't go anyplace without telling me."

"Um. Right. Why would she do that?" the nervousness in her voice gave her away, and Andrew searched her face before she got flustered and broke down.

"You know something."

"Forgive me, Andrew. Monica is going to be so angry with me if I tell you – but you keep looking at me with those, those… puppy dog eyes or something… and…"

"Where is she?" his voice was gentle, concerned.

Gloria shrugged. "She didn't tell me, but… you can find her easily, the way you found me. You have the gift of tuning in to other angels…"

"Yeah, usually, but she's masking herself. She doesn't want me to know where she is."

There was an urgency to this that caused Gloria to feel a little upset so that when Tess finally came out of the saloon, long after Andrew had gone, she had to pretend it was from the heat.

"You alright, baby?" Tess put a hand to Gloria's head and searched her face. "You look a little peaked."

Gloria shrugged and mustered up a convincing smile, though Tess seemed to see right through it. "I'm fine. Just ready to get on with the assignment."

And Tess searched her face and saw the anguish there behind the façade, but she didn't press the issue. She already had an inkling of what it was; it would only be a matter of time before everything came to light – and God revealed the truth…

tbc


	7. Chapter 7

7.

It was difficult, but Monica found ways to pass the time. Being alone was a new sensation for her, but she dealt with it the best she could under the circumstances. The baby inside her was growing so much that she felt tight like it might burst out at any time, and she was growing impatient with waiting.

The sky outside of where she stayed was a gray mist. The hotel where she masked herself, tucked inside of a Dutch mountainside, praying that no one find her, was where she also found solace. The foreboding hills loomed around her like guardians, and although she was glad for the time, she also needed her friends. She needed him.

But what she discovered, in time, was that she wasn't entirely alone. The communication caught her completely by surprise the first time, although it shouldn't have. She heard a whisper – like the ringing of chimes, like the wind. Her child talking to her in the most beautiful voice. It was spiritual and personal, his little voice inside her head inside her soul. The sound brought tears to her eyes and it was as if he were helping her through this, revealing himself as only an angel could, every single day. It simultaneously brought her strength and brought her to her knees. Every time she was caught unawares and moved to emotion, raw and pure.

Her body hadn't changed much, even as the baby continued to grow inside her – and it wasn't so much physical as it was divine. It was a little of both. She and Andrew were both angels, yes, but the love they had experienced together was heavenly _and_ earthly. She had no idea what to expect at this point, and she regretted not having him with her. Also, the ache of not having Tess alongside her was wearing on her heart, leaving her feeling cold and alone.

"Good morning, friend," someone spoke to her in Dutch and she turned towards the sound of the voice and smiled. It was the hotel manager, a friendly elder woman who used a walking stick and always had a kind word. She had been helpful to Monica since she had first arrived here.

"Good morning, Marta." Monica spoke back. "I never can get used to the loveliness of this place."

"Nor can I." Marta replied in English. There was a sparkle in her eye. "You look a bit pale. Have you eaten? I made breakfast."

Monica felt herself become queasy. The thought of food lately made her nauseous. She felt that nothing more could fit in her belly at this point, but Marta was so kind… and maybe she could use a nibble of something…

Inside, Marta set a plate of eggs and sausage in front of Monica. She also set down a plate of buttered toast and jam and milk and juice and fruit. Monica got dizzy from the sight of all the food. And in the end, she only managed to nibble a piece of fruit and a crust of bread.

When she told Marta she was tired, the older woman helped her up the stairs and to her room, so that she could lie down.

Once she was alone, Monica sat on the edge of her bed and burst into tears. Her eyes overflowed with a sudden emotion that she could hardly reign in. she was an angel, but she didn't much feel like one these days. Instead, she felt like a detached recluse, hiding from the world and hiding from life. She prayed to God for strength because she knew that once she had her baby, things would be fine, Tess couldn't be angry with her if the baby was already born (or so she reasoned), and she and Andrew could be like they were. She simply couldn't be with him now because she wasn't even certain that God blessed this union or not. It all felt very surreal and strange, and she thought it best if they keep apart for the time being, but it was so difficult. She missed the touch of him and the scent of him and his soft voice.

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed in earnest and when she looked up, she started to find two old friends standing in her room, blazing with the light of God's love.

"You poor angel." Sam came to her and put a supportive arm around her, and she leaned her head against him and cried onto his lapels. If Tess was like a mother to her, then Sam, in turn, was like her father.

"Oh, Sam, I've made such a m-mess of things…"

Near the window, Rafael looked on and smiled. "You haven't made a mess of anything, Monica. Everything you've done, you've done in love. God knows that."

"He's right." Sam wiped her tears away. "Look at you, little angel. You're so human these days, I hardly recognized you."

"But, she's still as beautiful and vibrant as she always was." Rafael's words caused a blush to warm Monica's cheeks. He was always so kind. "You're having a son?"

Monica nodded. "Yes. He…" she paused and averted her face. "…he is Andrew's son."

Neither angel seemed surprised by this news. "Then shouldn't Andrew be here with you?"

Monica stood and walked to the window, a soft glow around her. "I wanted to be sure. I mean, I don't know how the Father feels about… me and Andrew."

Sam exhaled. "Well, what the two of you have is unprecedented. There has never been another reported case of two angels having a child, let alone falling in love…"

This news caused a crease to form between Monica's eyes. She was experiencing a headache, something she had never experienced hundreds of years before. Now, however, she was experiencing all kinds of human ailments, from stomach aches to muscle spasms. All of it due to stress. She couldn't imagine why she was going through these physical pains, but a part of her welcomed it, felt that maybe she deserved it.

"Forgive me, Sam. I never meant for it to happen. I just… I love him so much…"

"God knows how much you love Andrew, but still, only time will tell where this will lead you. I would imagine, to raise a child, you would have to be human. It's not an angel's job to bear children after all…" Sam's voice trailed off. "…then again, I'm not God. I can't tell you what this child will bring with it, if it will even be an angel…"

"You mean, he could be… human?"

"I don't know." Sam answered truthfully.

Monica pondered his words and then considered something else that suddenly plagued her mind. "How did you find me here? I was cut off so I wouldn't be found."

Sam grinned and shared a look with Rafael. "You ever heard the saying, 'Through God, all things possible'?"

Monica let a smile ghost her features then. "Of course."

"Now, when are you going to contact Andrew?" Rafael came close to her, studied her beautiful face. "You know he's in agony when he is away from you."

She looked at the floor, avoiding the deep dark pools of Rafael's eyes. She was ashamed of her actions. "I didn't think it would affect him."

Sam snorted. "Well, I don't know everything, but I do know some things. If angels love harder than humans, then they are also capable of far worse hurt than humans – and right now, his soul is in absolute anguish without you…"

. . .

Hundreds of miles away in the dense everglades of Florida, Andrew stood ankle deep in swamp water, hands cradling the dying body of the woman. Life was leaving her and there was no help in sight. It was over - but also just beginning.

"Father, who art in Heaven…" he began. There was pain etched into the handsome planes of his face as he watched her soul leave her body.

Soon, relatives came, humans who knew her and cared about her – but it was too late, and they saw him holding onto her and stayed back, as if they knew who he was.

"It's alright. I am an angel." He said in a cracked voice. "She is going home to be with her Father now."

The light that surrounded him let them see he wasn't lying. He was indeed, an angel of the highest court!

The people fell to their knees as the angel brought the limp woman towards them and rested her body, her empty shell into their waiting arms. There were minimal words as he backed away and let them take her home as he had taken her soul home.

From there, the angel wandered the damp forest, his clothes stuck to him with water. He felt perspiration when before he had never felt it. There was also a chill in his soul, an emptiness. He wandered soundlessly until he came to a clearing and seated himself on the grass.

The presence loomed over him and he didn't need to look up to know who it was.

"Are you going to tell me what's weighing so heavy on you, angel boy or do I have to give you my personal theory?"

"Tess…" he felt it took all his strength just to speak. He never knew it could be this difficult without her. He was frozen without her, cold as stone. "…please."

She sat next to him on a discarded milk crate. "I don't know what's more hurtful: that you didn't tell me or that you thought I wouldn't or _couldn't_ find out." Tess was using her elementary school voice, the soft patient voice she used when addressing small children. It made Andrew feel about two feet smaller.

"I'm sorry, Tess." His voice was hollow with sadness. "I can't keep it from you any longer anyway. I can feel that it's written all over my face."

"Oh, it certainly is, baby." Tess sighed. "But I knew you loved Monica for a very long time now. I just had no idea how deep that love could go… or what the ramifications of it could be."

He finally turned to meet her gaze, green eyes on brown. "So, you know? Everything?"

Tess shrugged. "More or less. The one thing I'm not clear on is why she wouldn't talk to me."

Andrew thought about it, tried to formulate a sensible response. "Because… she didn't want to lose you. She couldn't bear the thought…"

Tess smiled, her eyes warm. She let a hand drift to Andrew's sandy hair, comforting him, gently. "Oh, angel boy. She could never lose me unless the Father saw fit to take us from each other. You either."

He looked into her motherly face and let himself relax. "I need to find her. I need to be with her. It's killing me, being apart."

"I know baby." She said. "But you only need to look into your heart and you will find her. She's keeping herself hidden for whatever misguided reasons… but…"

"But our souls are …entwined. It literally hurts…" Andrew heard his voice catch and paused.

"It hurts her too, angel boy." She looked up into the sky, thought she felt a tremor on the horizon. Tess was close enough to Monica that the presence of her could be felt, even while she masked herself from so far away, even across time. She could sense her across borders, feel her aching pain, feel the whisper of her Irish lilt. They were so far and yet very close, close enough to touch.

"I can almost hear her." Andrew thought it might be his imagination, but Tess knew better.

With a grin, she nudged him lightly. "Baby, you have no idea."

Outside on the porch of the little inn, Monica watched as Marta crocheted a blanket she had been working on for the better part of a month. It was baby blue with little white birds all over it, like the southern sky.

This was the only place for miles, and the porch light was on like a beacon, even in the haze of early afternoon. Monica looked over at Marta and smiled. There was something oddly comforting about her, something familiar. Monica felt safe here, although she felt her time was dwindling down. Soon, her baby would be here; she felt it in her heart. There were no doctors to rely on, but Marta had promised to stay with Monica throughout everything. She didn't ask many questions, and the knowing glint in her eyes was like she already had an inkling of Monica's situation.

That night when she lay down on her bed, she shut her eyes and fell into a fitful slumber. She didn't need to sleep just as she didn't need to breathe or eat, but sleep came easily to her on this night and then it toyed with her thoughts mercilessly.

She dreamed she was caught in darkness, stuck in a void, her unborn child tight inside her, begging to be free. She felt so far removed from God, and the sensation sent a shudder through her. She tossed and turned, her cry stuck in her throat, fear gripping her. She tried to wake, but it was as if she was stuck in the nightmare, the evil dark place with no light.

When she woke with a scream, she found she was folded in a warm embrace.

"Shh, angel. It's alright." He murmured into her hair. "I have you now."

She sobbed into Andrew's chest, clinging to him. "Andrew… please… never let go…"

"I will hold you as long as you want me to." He kissed her tear stained face, her mouth, her hair. He held her tight to him, his hand on her belly. He had missed them both so much. "Never go away from me again, angel."

She nodded and tugged him closer still. "Never."

When she opened her eyes, she saw the others in the room, glowing like beautiful statuettes made of light. Tess, Sam, and Rafael. And near the door stood Marta.

Monica cleared her voice and smiled at them all. "I felt so alone." She whispered. "I've never been away from angels so long."

Tess' grinned. "And you weren't now either, angel baby."

And as she looked on, her jaw dropped to see Marta light up like a Christmas star. "I… I was never alone."

Marta's elderly face looked so new and heavenly. "And even if I wouldn't have been here, you wouldn't have been alone. God is always with you – but I don't need to tell you that, Monica. You've sat right next to His throne!"

Tears streamed down her face as she nodded her agreement and felt herself light as well. She was filled with His glory – and then she remembered, with a jarring pain up her spine, the other entity in the room.

"Andrew," she whispered, fearful of the pain. "I think… I think he's coming."

Andrew's grin was firm and his hands steady even as color drained from his angelic features. His son was on the way!

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

_**First off, forgive me; I feel so sorry it has taken so long to update, :^( but I feel an obligation to this fic, and so I bring you another chapter. Its been a long time coming (so much going on and getting in the way), but I assure readers, I won't let it go this long again. Please, without further delay, enjoy chapter 8. **_

She felt herself contracting, bursting at the seams, coming unglued and detached from reality, but somehow, Andrew's arms anchored her to earth. She tossed her head back and prayed for strength. The pain was like none she had ever experienced, but also, it was as if her soul was tearing in two. She was weakened physically and spiritually.

"Andrew." She felt herself murmur as he held her and pushed her damp hair from her face. "Andrew, please don't let go."

"I won't, angel." His voice was so warm and yet firm, unyielding – like his grasp on her.

Tess and Rafael and Sam stood at a distance, gazing down on her with bright eyes, as if keeping vigil. Also, Marta and Gloria stood nearby, eyes wide with wonder. The room was so warm with their collective angelic glow, that Monica was bathed in it, head spinning.

It wasn't happening the way it would with a human. It was as if the truth and love and glory of the angelic core of Monica was phasing into a ball of light, a flash of heat through her. She heard a scream and realized it was her own voice as the baby appeared outside of her, glistening as if covered in her balm.

Monica collapsed against Andrew as he reached for the child, a cherub, staring with wide deep brown eyes, pools of cocoa inherited from his mother.

Andrew held him up and regarded him, smiled at him, oblivious of his own tears of joy. His head was a fluffy crown of golden hair. He cooed and wiggled in Andrew's arms, perfectly content, and the others came forward and regarded him.

"He looks… so human…" Gloria murmured, an awed smile on her face.

"Yes, he does." Rafael couldn't keep the grin off his lips. "He's beautiful."

Tess smiled and cried at once; she could barely contain herself and then song emanated from her, a spiritual lullaby. She sang deeply and soulfully and it covered everyone like a warm blanket. Andrew placed their son in Monica's arms, and she gazed down into his face. He was the loveliest sight she had ever seen. He was a miracle.

"Thank you, father." She whispered. "Thank you."

Andrew cradled the both of them in his arms. He was speechless, a ball in his throat, constricting the words. He nuzzled Monica's hair, pressed as close as he could.

When Monica drank in as much of her baby's features as she could without overwhelming herself, she held him up for Tess, beckoning her forward with a glance, an intensity shared between them, a bond like that of mother of daughter, and Tess was overcome.

She came forward and held the child in her arms, kissed his crown and whispered a prayer into his golden ringlets.

"I love you, Tess." Monica said and then she pulled Tess to her and shared a hug with her and her newborn child.

"I love you, too, baby!" Tess spoke in a voice hoarse with emotion. "All of my babies!" she kissed Andrew's cheek and held him close.

Towards the edge of the room, Rafael beamed, his brown face alight with joy and wonder. Marta wiped her tears and Sam wore a contented smile as if he knew that the Heavenly father smiled down on this union. Gloria seemed to be caught someplace between analytical ecstasy and perfect blissful wonder. She had no idea what she was supposed to feel, but it felt so good, so new.

"Do you have to name him, now?" she said in a timid voice. "Is… this the next step?"

Monica considered the words and looked into the handsome face of her love, Andrew who still seemed lost in gladness. "Andrew…"

He shrugged, his hazel eyes glistening. "I… I don't know."

She smiled at him and he held onto a handful of her dark reddish hair, sliding his fingers through it. "We have time to name him."

"Of course, angel babies, you have all the time in the world." Tess had a sparkle in her eye as she looked into the beautiful face of the miracle child. He was cooing, his tiny fist curled around Andrew's index finger. He was so content, and Monica wondered, errantly, if she needed to feed him. She searched Tess' eyes.

"Tess, is my child… is he… an Angel?"

Tess grinned, "Well, I don't know, angel baby, but he sure is glowing like one."

And Monica saw that he was shimmering golden, as if made of light. She was overwhelmed with emotion. It was all too much to take in at once, and she rested back against the down soft comfort of the bed and drifted into a contented slumber. Tess held onto the tiny bundle and smiled down at her little Monica.

"Well, I'm sure she's exhausted after all she's been through. Come on, we'll let her rest now."

. . . .

Outside in the courtyard, Andrew stared down at the face of the baby in his arms. He couldn't stop staring at him, couldn't stop breathing him in. He was the softest, loveliest creature he had ever known – besides Monica. The tuft of pale hair on the crown of his head was like Andrew's, but the rest of him, the deep dimple when he cooed, the flicker of darkness in his eye, the little nose, was like Monica's. Andrew found that he was breathless, looking into his little face.

He couldn't stop thanking God for this miracle, for this blessing. He had whispered it at least a thousand times, just since noon. His baby opened his cocoa eyes and looked up at his father, so content. He didn't cry, and he didn't seem to need for anything. Andrew was beside himself with emotion. He wanted to laugh and cry at once. He was close to breaking open with jubilation, but he kept himself in check lest he scare his littlest angel.

"I only just met you," Andrew whispered to tiny the baby, "but I already know I love you more than life itself."

The baby seemed to smile at him, even though Andrew knew he was too young to know how, yet.

"He could be an archangel," a voice said from nearby. Andrew turned to the sound of the voice to see Gloria a few feet away.

"An archangel?" Andrew was watching her approach. "That seems impossible. Neither me, nor Monica…"

"Well, the probability of him being human seems impossible, even while he grew inside of Monica, the way a human child would. But I don't imagine God would have gone to the trouble of creating a child with two angels only to have it be… a mere mortal, so to speak." She blushed after she said, as if she had made a social blunder. "- not saying that would be a bad thing. It would just seem like a waste."

"A waste…" Andrew mused. He couldn't imagine his child being anything but the most precious miracle the world had ever seen. Then again, Gloria had a point. Why? The mere fact of his existence defied all logic.

"Consider the fact that he could be put here in the capacity of something like a an archangel, like Gabriel!"

Andrew felt a tremor climb up his spine. The thought of his child as an archangel made him dizzy with pride. But he quickly pushed it away. The fact that he was alive at all, a wriggling bundle in his arms, man or angel, was enough for him. The rest didn't matter. The truth would be revealed in time.

. . . .

Inside the inn, Monica was waking. She opened her brown eyes to see Andrew seated near her. He waited until she was coherent and smiling at him before placing their child in her arms.

She looked down at the baby, her eyes never leaving him. "I thought maybe it was a dream."

Andrew sat near them, kissing her face. "If it's a dream, I never want to wake."

She kissed him and gazed into his eyes. "I love the fact that he is ours together, Andrew." She looked back down at the child. "Our wee one, our baby. Do you know how happy it makes me, to know that we did this together?"

A tear of joy rolled down her cheek and disappeared onto the baby blanket. "I adore you, Monica, more than ever. Now I know how it feels, the overwhelming joy the humans feel when this happens, when a child is born. I never thought I would know it myself, but knowing it, I don't know how they can stay sane, go about their daily lives knowing it exists, a love this strong, a love this pure. I can't stop looking at him."

Monica pulled Andrew down with her onto the comforter. Their faces were inches apart, eyes linked. She smiled, and he touched her cheek with gentle fingertips. The baby slumbered between them.

"I adore you, Andrew." She whispered. "And I love our child more than life itself, but what does it all mean?"

Andrew shrugged. "I wish I knew, angel." He let his eyes slip shut. He was concerned but also content. Human behavior came so easy to him now, drifting to sleep, touching her, feeling his heart beat, breathing. He inhaled the scent of his baby and he was filled with the smell of lilac and rose, a heavenly mixture. It was true what they said about angels, leaving behind the smell of flowers in their wake.

. . .

It was days later, and Tess and Monica stood in a glen overlooking a valley forge. The wind played in Monica's long reddish locks and toyed with Tess' silver tresses. They shared a smile as the sun shimmered over them like a prayer.

"I see you in a whole new light, angel-girl." Tess' voice was warm, comforting. "You're a mother now. And no matter how many moons I've seen go by or will see, I never experienced a miracle so great. God loves you, baby."

"Yes, I know, Tess. But God loves you too. And you've always been like a mother to me. The most precious mother I could ever have."

Tess felt misty as Monica came forward and wrapped her arms around her. " Thank you, baby. That's the best compliment I ever had."

As they held each other, Andrew appeared in the distance, cuddling the fat bundle in his arms. The child, whose brown eyes were wide with wonder and very alert, was growing faster than any human child. He was already big enough to walk, but he seemed to prefer the arms of his father or mother. When they were close enough, he reached for Monica, and she took him into her loving embrace.

"Good morning, my wee angel." She kissed his face and smoothed his large cherub curls. His hair was like spun gold, kissed by the sun. "Mummy loves you."

"He looks just like his daddy!" Tess beamed and lightly nudged Andrew.

"I think he looks so much like Monica. He has so many of her features. That makes him that much more beautiful." He caressed Monica's back and let his hand get lost in her silken tresses. She turned and smiled at him. Her eyes had so much love inside them. Without even speaking, she told Andrew how very much she loved him and was glad for him.

"I love you too, angel." He whispered.

Tess looked on at the happy family and started back towards the edge of the wood so the three could be alone. When she got near the little inn where they had stayed, she started to see Sam standing outside the main entrance. The look on his face was grave, and Tess steeled herself against whatever he might say.

"I'm not a mind reader, Sam, but you don't look like an angel that's bearing tidings and joy."

Sam's face remained neutral. "Well, I guess that all depends on your perspective."

"As the humans say, 'cut to the chase'. What news did you bring?"

"The bottom line is this: Andrew and Monica's child is, in fact, an archangel. God wanted to ensure its purity by creating him from pure love. And what's more pure than the love between two angels crafted by God's own hand?"

Tess shrugged. "Understandable. But, what does this mean for those little angel babies out there?" she gestured towards Andrew and Monica and their child.

"The child has to return to heaven. He will serve directly under God. He will be a revered angel, Tess. Don't give me that look; I am merely the messenger on this!"

"I know, I know!" Tess was wearing a pained expression. She didn't want the job of telling Monica and Andrew that their time with their child was limited. It would break their hearts… "How long until he has to return?"

"Tess, you're treating this like it's a punishment or a curse. Don't you know it's possibly the greatest honor an angel can know? Its what some angels have fought for, precedence over man, the chance to have all our Father's love, to be at His right hand. There's nothing sad about it."

"Well, you're not the little angel out there holding onto your new baby, the one thing you never though possible. Imagine yourself in their shoes, Sam. Imagine having created life out of love – only to have it taken away."

"It won't be taken away. You think the Father doesn't know how much Monica and Andrew love their son? A similar sacrifice was made more than two millennia ago." He came close and placed a caring hand on her shoulder. "And I know she's like a daughter to you. You don't want to see her hurt; none of us do. But this is bigger than us."

Tess' eyes were determined but also very sad. She nodded at Sam and wasn't surprised to see him glowing warm. He was revealing to her so she could see the depth of his emotion and the truth in God's word. Any apprehension she felt melted away at the sight. She hoped that would be enough for the new parents…


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hello, readers and writers. First off, let me apologize for my extreme lateness in updating. The truth is, what started off as laziness and procrastination kind of morphed into a kind of depression brought on by the death of John Dye. I really didn't see that coming. But then, there was this sense of obligation nagging at me to finish this story. Once i began working on it again, i felt a newfound sense of love for the show and the series as a whole. It's still my favorite series and i will never stop loving these characters. That said, I have decided to re-commit myself to this project, and i swear i won't leave it this long again. I am very disappointed in that and in myself, and I hope you will continue to read. I solemnly promise to complete this story - and i hope to continue to write in this genre. i say that tentatively, but we'll see. :-) **_

_**-8inches**_

Although Monica was not human in spirit, she had been in her human form for so long now that she tended to think and act like one. She was capable of anger and she was capable of hurt and right now, her heart felt like it might break. Tess hadn't minced words and she hadn't stuttered. Monica wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel knowing she had to part with her baby, but she likened the weakness in her knees to something akin to sorrow.

She spoke to Tess telepathically. "But why, Tess? _Why_?"

The elder angel answered her with spoken words. To link minds with Monica was almost too painful to endure now. "Because, baby, it is His will."

And another human instinct flared up within Monica: Rebellion. She wanted to lash out against it, but her angelic spirit wouldn't let her. She glanced over at Andrew who had been silent since first hearing the news. His green eyes were cloudy, but Andrew was nothing if not obedient. The hurt on his handsome features spoke volumes about his reaction to this.

Sam had spoken the words, distantly, almost as a messenger. He tried to remain impassive, but he was more like a father to these angels, having been in such close contact with them since coming to earth to do casework and then becoming a supervisor.

A part of Monica wanted to be angry with him for remaining so far-removed from the situation. But she couldn't be angry with him. It was his way of coping. He was only a messenger after all.

"An archangel is an angel of the most high rank, Monica, someone to sit at the right hand of God, to perch at His throne, to become His counsel and His closest companion." Sam's voice echoed as if from far away. "Do you know that it was an archangel who ministered to Christ after His temptation in the wilderness?"

Monica understood, but a small part of her didn't care about any of it. She only wanted to have her baby for herself, to become like the humans and raise it the way they did, to nurture and see it grow… but then she remembered that it wouldn't be like the humans because they weren't humans; they were angels.

"Thank you, Sam." Monica felt numb as she hugged herself. "I think I just need… time."

Sam nodded and walked off towards the horizon. Tess came and gave her rigid body a squeeze before following after Sam, leaving Monica and Andrew alone.

He watched her for several seconds, watched her perfect face. A single tear slipped down her cheek and he went to her, his arms going around her.

"You're breaking my heart." he whispered into her hair. "I hate to see you cry."

"I don't want to be an angel anymore, Andrew. I don't want to be anything."

"Don't say that." He breathed against her neck.

"No, I mean it." she pulled away from him. "I don't want to do this. I don't want to know love if it just means I have to lose it. What kind of cruel joke is this?"

Andrew stared at her. Only pain would make her speak this way. "You're upset, Monica. But we've lost nothing. We're not sacrificing our son. He will be safe and loved in heaven…"

"And where will we be? Down here on Earth? Case-working for an eternity? Never knowing our child? Was that the plan all along? You and me, Andrew? Only vessels?"

"You're missing the point, Monica…" Andrew was desperate to get this back on track, but Monica was nothing if not stubborn.

"Am I?"

His eyes pleaded with her, but she was unreachable. She needed time.

She stared into his eyes before turning away from him and stalking into the horizon, her earthly form vanishing into the mist of the day. He wanted to follow her, but there was no point. He would have to give her space until she came to grips with it. He felt his heart sink as he considered his own words. _Come to grips with it._ He wondered if he would be able to follow his own advice.

. . . . .

No one saw Monica the rest of the day. Raphael had returned to work with Gloria, in another part of the world, and Tess tended to the baby as Andrew went back and forth between the earthly and heavenly realm.

"I don't understand this, Tess." he paced the floor, stopping occasionally to check on his son whose bright brown orbs stared back at him. He was very quiet, this baby, so pensive. Andrew saw wisdom reflected back, and it made his heart flutter. He was special, more special than any child had ever seen – and he was growing faster than any human baby. In just a few days, he was already the size of a two year old, his dimples deepening as he smiled at Tess, tugging a fistful of her long silver tresses.

"She'll come around, angel boy. She always does." Tess reassured him, but her words sounded feeble even to her own ears. Monica was deeply immersed in her own personal pain. It was a wonder anyone could reach her.

As it happened, she could be found strolling the emerald green of her form's homeland, the beautiful Ireland. She let the mist of a nearby waterfall cleanse her, cover her face in cool wetness. She also let the water mask her tears. It was torture being without her child. Her arms yearned to hold the baby she had created inside her own body. The thought still made her tremble inside! – and the realization that it was something she and Andrew had done together made it that much more miraculous. She choked back a sob. She was overwhelmed again. It was happening much more frequently these days.

In another instant, a child ran up to her, tugging at her skirt.

"Excuse me, have you seen my sheep?"

Monica was startled to realize she hadn't been invisible to the human eye. She so often drifted in and out of humanity, but usually only when on a case did she use her human form.

"I'm sorry; I haven't."

The child stared so intently into her eyes that she felt a lump form in her throat as her eyes filled with tears. The child's brown eyes reminded her of her own child.

"You're sad." the child's poignant voice only sent her over the brink, and her tears fell down her cheeks, leaving hot trails of sorrow.

Monica nodded, her hand wiping her tears. "Yes. I am."

"Its alright." the little boy took her hand in his and kissed the back of it, rubbing the knuckles with his little fingers. "God loves you. And so do I?"

Now Monica sank down onto the knoll and nodded, trusting this wee one, implicitly. "I know. And thank you."

"Someone else needs you, too."

Monica paused, her eyes burrowing into the small boy. "How do you - ?"

"He's an angel."

The voice sent a chill up her spine and Monica turned towards the sound, not surprised to see who it belonged too.

"Kathleen…"

"Yeah. They make 'em younger and younger these days, don't they?"

Monica instantly went into alert mode. She turned and saw that the boy was gone. He _had_ been an angel after all. "What are you doing here?"

Kathleen folded her arms and leaned against a stone fence, eyes unclouded with greed and empty of maliciousness. They looked almost open, clear of evil. "I'm on an assignment. What are you doing here? Hiding?"

Monica shook her head, not willing to believe this was a coincidence. "Forgive me, Kathleen, but I don't trust you. This isn't like before. I've seen your true colors, and I'm not naïve like I have been in the past."

"That's understandable." Kathleen kept her distance, but her brow wrinkled with disappointment. "But if you look inside yourself, you'll see that I am genuine and you'll see that I've come as a friend. I heard about your… issues."

"Well, my issues have nothing to do with you, Kathleen. Furthermore, I don't need your help or your friendship, so just go."

Now Kathleen's face fell. The hurt was plain on her face. "Okay, Monica. But I have it on good authority that you should go back. Your baby needs you. It's going to work out better than you think, but you're wasting precious time when you could be holding him, kissing him." Kathleen paused as Monica began to cry. "You don't know what a gift you've been given. Something every angel wishes for, a chance to have a piece of mortality without giving away your immortality."

Monica shook her head, not wanting to hear anything else Kathleen had to say. "Please, Kathleen, just go. Go away now."

Kathleen nodded then half smiled. But there was so much sadness in her face that Monica regretted treating her that way, and then Kathleen faded from her vision, a mist that maybe never really existed.

In another part of the world, Andrew held onto his son. A part of him was contemplating names for the child, but another part of him was caught up in Monica's cynicism. He wondered what would be the point? And then he held onto his child even tighter. A part of him wanted to take the baby and run, far away. But he knew no matter how far he went, it would never be far enough. God's hand could reach any corner of the earth he could run to. And then a sadness coursed through him for even thinking such things. He would never want to be far away from his master. Nothing was as important as His love or His grace.

What he needed right now was Monica. He wanted to confer with her. He needed her near him. Every time the baby made a face, it was like he was looking into her face, the deep dimples creasing his cheek. And the child was getting restless without her. He needed her as much or maybe more than Andrew did.

"Forgive me, Andrew." Her voice was a gentle caress. He turned, and the baby wailed, reached towards her.

Monica came close, her red hair framing her porcelain face. She looked angelic as she took her child into her arms and held him so close. He clutched her in his fat baby fists, nuzzling her as she cradled his pale blond head. She couldn't stop kissing him, inhaling him, whispering sweet words to him.

Andrew thought she looked as saintly as the Madonna. When her eyes met his, they were determined, filled with a strength of will he had never seen before.

"I can't give him up, Andrew. And I won't. I'll die first."

Andrew was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say. If Monica went against God, he was sure there would be no redemption. Still, a part of him, a human base part of him wanted to go along with her, whatever it was.

"I want to take him away. We can keep running…"

"It won't work, Monica." His voice was sober, quiet as a feather. "You know that. I'm wasting my words even telling you…"

"I don't care. Maybe he won't pursue…"

"We're not Bonnie and Clyde, Monica – and God is not the FBI! If you try and go against Him, we'll fail! We won't have to worry about being angels anymore – or even humans! We'll be wiped out of existence!"

"You said, 'we'…"

"Monica, please don't fight this."

She held her baby close to her, and his little fists clung to her, little fingers threaded through her hair. She had a newfound sense of fortitude. "I don't want to go without you, Andrew… but I will…"

Andrew had never seen her like this. It was a little frightening. He didn't have a rebuttal, but he couldn't let her go out into the world, powerless and alone – and with their newborn baby!

"I love you so much, Monica. And I love our family. I don't understand this, and I don't know how you think we can elude the all powerful, all seeing eye of the creator of the universe… but maybe this is happening for a reason. Maybe I'm meant to see it through… to the end."

She held his gaze with hers, brown eyes on green. They were merely angels, hardly powerful in the grand scheme, but perhaps the time alone, just the three of them, would do them some good. Perhaps God would understand, even forgive…

Andrew came close to her, caressed the baby's head, kissed Monica's mouth, deeply, tasting her love and her will and her strength, everything he loved about her. He let his fingers get lost in the red sea of her hair, part of what made him fall in love with her, and nodded. He would stick by her. Even if it meant the end of them, even if it meant the end of everything…


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for the kind words and feedback. I am, as always, honored to share my fiction with you. And i am getting better about timely updates. lol! ;-) Hopefully, this chapter appeases. It was kinda fun to write. Please enjoy.**

Time in the life of an angel passed very quickly as compared to time for a human. Maybe because there was so much more of it, it lost relativity. Became less precious. The span of five years was the blink of an eye, and Andrew felt it had only been yesterday when his son was born.

He stood outside the school building, waiting for Christian. In another instant, the bell rang, and the place swelled and overflowed with children, overwhelming Andrew and the other parents. Miraculously, the boy found his father in the crowd.

"Daddy!" he squealed, leaping into Andrew's arms.

Andrew caught and held him, loving the feel of the small arms around his neck. The boy, whose unruly blond curls were like wildfire about his head, blinked his deep brown eyes and smiled, a deep dimple creasing his face.

"How was school, love?"

"Great! I did a good job. I learned to write so many numbers and I wrote them on the board and everything!"

Andrew beamed. "Mommy's gonna be so proud – and so am I."

He let the boy down and held his hand as they walked down a sunny sidewalk in a quaint and quiet neighborhood. Christian talked endlessly as they headed home, and Andrew found he loved that sound almost more than anything, the little voice, inquisitive and precocious. He asked questions and told jokes, and Andrew laughed and occasionally glanced down at the wondrous little creature that was equal parts of him and the great love of his life.

Monica waited at the end of the driveway, waving as her two favorite men came into sight. From this distance, Christian looked precisely like Andrew - in miniature! The blond head, flowing against the light breeze of the day, the general shape of them, even the walk.

When he caught sight of his mother, Christian broke away from Andrew and sprinted towards his mother, his tiny legs pounding the pavement until he reached her and leapt up into her outstretched arms.

"I love you, mommy! I missed you!"

'And I missed you, my precious angel!" Monica held tight to him, keeping her emotions at bay. Being away from him was so difficult at times, and it didn't help that she was always kind of expecting him to never return. It was her darkest fantasy, that he would be whisked away from her in the night or as he played on the playground at school – or even out in the yard. Andrew admonished her for it, but she couldn't help herself. Mothers always thought the worst.

Later, they sat down to dinner. Christian happily swung his legs under the table, waiting as Andrew studied the daily newspaper. Monica served warm bowls of stew for her men as she gently pulled the paper from Andrew and grinned down at him. He smiled back at her, as she served herself and sat at the table to dine with them.

Christian folded his hands. "Now grace, right mommy?"

Monica and Andrew both nodded as he led the blessing. He was extremely proficient at it and seemed to really enjoy doing it. It was the same with prayers. He was quite close with God, and this fact only served to make him that much more mysterious.

When he finished, he dug into his meal. Monica watched him, drinking in the sight of him. He was perfection personified, and she found she couldn't help getting overwhelmed.

"Excuse me…" she got up from the table and went into the bathroom where she could be alone. She shut the door and let her tears flow down her cheeks. It was too perfect, too amazing. But she knew it wouldn't last; she knew it couldn't.

The knock came to the door, and she knew it was him. "Monica…"

"I'm fine, Andrew." she tried to make her voice sound level, but it wavered. He was too intuitive not to catch it.

He turned the knob and came in. "I know you, and I know when you're lying."

"I don't lie." she dabbed at her eyes. "Please, just give me a moment."

"Please talk to me. I know something's bothering you."

Her brown eyes met his hazel ones. She couldn't lie. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never keep things from me." He whispered. "I know it's about… about Christian."

"Don't, Andrew." she lowered her voice to match the softness of his. "Please."

Andrew touched her face, made her hold his gaze. "Okay. But later, we have to address this. For now, dinner is getting cold."

She hesitated, but finally consented.

Later, Andrew and Christian laughed and joked together as they played a game. Monica cleared the dishes and straightened up. When it was almost time for bed, both Monica and Andrew escorted him to bed. He snuggled beneath the blankets and gazed up at his parents.

"I'm so sleepy, mommy." he yawned, his little hands sliding through the long red silk of her hair.

"You had a long day, my dear baby boy." she said, bending down to kiss his round little face. Andrew followed suit.

"Tonight, I'm going to dream about angels." he said, eyes already slipping shut.

Monica and Andrew exchanged glances. "Those are the best dreams." Andrew caressed his soft curls. "Goodnight, Christian."

The boy was already sleeping when they turned off the light and went into the other room.

"How long has it been, Andrew?"

He paused, running a hand through his hair. "1,841 days."

She nodded, went to sit on the couch, facing the fireplace. Andrew came and sat next to her. He took her hand in his, caressed it with his thumb, then brought it to his face, kissing the delicate knuckles.

"Andrew, what do you call this?"

He wasn't sure what she meant. "I don't know…"

"I don't know if I'm still an angel.- and if I am, does God still want me?"

"Yes." Andrew answered without hesitation. "Of course He wants you."

She waited, then looked at him. "Christian, our son… I adore him."

He nodded. "He's a miracle."

"I adore you too." she leaned over and gently kissed his mouth, making him smile. "But… sometimes, I think about… Tess and Gloria and Sam. Sometimes, I wonder what will become of us."

He didn't readily answer. Instead he sat closer, captured a handful of her hair in his hand, let his fingers slide gently through the soft tresses. "I guess I'm just so happy to be with you and Christian, I don't have time to think about the rest of it."

"I wish I could be more like you, Andrew. I wish I could relax."

Now he stood and reached for her hand. When she gave it, he pulled her up into an embrace. His mouth nuzzled her neck, inhaling her sweetness. She let her hands rest on his shoulders and her eyes slip shut as he kissed her throat, chin, and lips.

Her face flushed as they stumbled to the bedroom, and he lay her down and paid homage to her human form, slender, pale as pearl, warm as life.

"What are you doing?" she asked, playfully as he pulled off her socks.

"Helping you to relax." he murmured against the flat expanse of her belly. "Is it working?"

She giggled and brought a hand down to get lost in his flaxen locks. "I think so."

"Good. Then I haven't lost my touch."

And the two of them laughed and 'relaxed' together on the soft down comforter of their bed.

. . . . .

Down the hall, in another bedroom, an angel spoke to Christian. He sat up against his pillows, his deep brown eyes focused on the Hispanic angel seated at the foot of his bed.

"Is heaven very nice?"

Raphael nodded, his handsome beige face open and honest. "It's the nicest place in existence. Mostly because God lives there."

"I want to go there. I want to see God."

"You will." Raphael said. "Very soon, and it'll be the best. I promise. But you know that God is in everything. He's the sun shining in the sky and the air we breathe. He's the blue jay that lives in your backyard."

"When I go to heaven, will mommy and daddy be there too?"

Raphael hesitated. "Sometimes. But your job will be different than theirs. You get to go live in heaven for always, and be God's best angel."

Christian looked down. The thought of being away from his parents made him sad. But being with God seemed like the greatest adventure, almost like a dream come true.

"Will I get to say goodbye?"

Raphael squeezed his little hand. "Of course, little one. But I don't want you to worry – and I don't want you to be sad. It's the greatest honor, to be an angel of the highest heaven. You were chosen before we even knew you."

Christian nodded as Raphael tucked him back into his bed. "Goodnight, Raphael."

Raphael kissed him on his forehead. "Sweet dreams, little one."

And as the boy drifted effortlessly into slumber, Raphael vanished from sight. When he reappeared, he was standing outside the little house next to Tess and Adam.

"How did he look?" Tess inquired impatiently. "How are they?"

"They're fine. The boy, Christian, looks just like Andrew… well… _and_ Monica. He has her eyes, so it's hard to really look at him without seeing Monica. But at first glance, he reminds me of Andrew. He has his hair and his mannerisms and all that…"

Tess seemed to melt at the description as Adam considered the perfect house, the manicured lawn. "Mortality agrees with them, I'd say. It's a shame what has to happen."

"Oh, you have a problem with God's orders now, angel boy?" Tess had put on her mad face. "Maybe you have some suggestions you'd like to put in the suggestion box?"

"I didn't mean it like that, Tess. I only meant, it'll break their hearts when I swoop in and… take Christian."

"They knew what they were in for." Raphael reasoned. "Running away only prolonged the inevitable – and anyway, they'll be able to see him whenever they want."

Tess nodded. "Yes, but knowing Monica, it won't be as simple as that. She won't do well with it at all. I don't want to speak for Andrew because his reaction will be harder to gauge… but Monica is very emotional and she will feel betrayed and she will need a lot of comforting."

"I guess she's lucky to have so many friends who care about her."

Adam made a pained face. "I just hope she doesn't hate me after this. We've always been on pretty good terms, but after this… well. Lets just say the thought of her hating me is… unbearable."

Tess glared at him. "You know that little angel is incapable of hate, no matter how hurt she gets. She can bounce back from anything – and has! We need to have confidence in her, and faith in our Father right now. Is that understood, angel boys?"

Both angels nodded. "Yeah, okay," Adam cleared his throat. "But when is all this going down? So I'm prepared…"

Tess paused considering, and they all looked to the left. Sam was standing nearby, wearing a very formal suit that let them all know he had just come from a very important assignment.

"Thursday next."

They all exchanged glances before fixing their gazes back on the sweet little home. None of them knew how it would all unfold, but they could only hope for the best. The stakes were higher because it wasn't just the hearts of random angels, but the hearts of their best friends. The slightest misstep could send it all crashing to the ground. ..


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey everyone! Chapter 11 is here. I don't really know what to say except I really love the angels, and i really love writing about them. I hate to see them hurt, but sometimes, in order to drive the story... you know... Anyway, this chappy is not so bad, but its leading to a great big climax. As always, thank you for reading, and I love reading your stories as well! Very inspiring to me! **

It was an overcast Tuesday morning as Monica walked her little boy to school. He was singing to himself, and Monica was memorizing his tune. He kept looking up at her and smiling as he did, and Monica was certain he was the most precious creature in life.

When he stopped, he grinned up at her. "Buenos Diaz, Mommy!"

She paused to look down at him. "Buenos Diaz…"

"Como Estas?"

"Christian, sweetie, are your teachers teaching you Spanish at school, already? If so, that's remarkable!"

The little one hesitated before answering. "My teachers didn't teach me Spanish. I learned from someone else."

Monica cocked her head at him. "Someone else?"

"Yes. My friend."

Now she smiled. "I didn't know you have a Spanish friend at your school. That's wonderful."

Christian lowered his dark eyes to the ground. He wasn't sure he should be talking about this. It's wasn't exactly a secret, but… "My Spanish friend isn't from school. He's my friend who visits me at night. My angel."

Now Monica paused. Her heart skipped in her chest. She kneeled in front of Christian, smoothed his hair. She looked deep into his dark eyes, searching for an answer. She had always assumed Christian was just dreaming about angels, but it never occurred to her that actual angels were visiting him, especially since she hadn't heard anything from her angelic friends in over five years. Now, it seemed very plausible. She didn't know how to feel about that…

As if reading her mind, Christian blurted out, "His name is Raphael."

Monica kept up her visage, even though it was like something surged through her in that instant. Why would Raphael be visiting Christian? Why would he need an angel?

Instinctively, she pulled her son into her arms and kissed his hair. She wanted to panic, but she needed to keep it together for him. She didn't want to alarm him.

"I think that's lovely, dearest." her voice only wavered a little.

"Mommy, how come you're crying?" he traced the stream of tears trailing down her face she hadn't even realized had fallen.

She shook her head and wiped her face. "Sometimes, I get so happy that I have you, and I get so happy when I am with you that I get overly emotional. I didn't even realize I was crying."

His little face was scrunched in worry. "Don't be sad, mommy. After I go to school, I'll come right back home and we can play together."

Monica nodded. "Do you promise?"

He nodded. "I promise."

They were outside the school, and Monica watched as he walked towards the building to get lost in the sea of other students. She felt numb as she watched him go, and she felt numb as she walked the distance back to the little house.

When she came inside, Andrew came into the room and knew something was wrong as soon as he saw her face.

"What is it? What happened?"

She began to cry fresh tears, and Andrew closed the gap between them in an instant, his hands on her shoulders.

"Monica, what is it? Where's Christian?"

"At school…" she whispered. "…he's fine. It's just that… I… angels…"

"What angels?"

"The ones from his dreams…" she tried to calm herself. "…Christian has been visited by Raphael."

Andrew took a moment to comprehend. "Raphael?"

She moved away from him. "I don't know what it means, but I don't like it, Andrew. Why wouldn't he speak to us? Why would he talk to Christian? It doesn't make sense."

Andrew shrugged. "I don't know. But Raphael wouldn't harm him. You know that."

"That's not what I'm worried about. What if they're trying to take him?"

That thought hadn't occurred to Andrew, but now he wasn't sure how to feel. "Maybe we shouldn't have left him…"

Monica met and held his gaze. "Should we go and get him? I'll go and get him." she reached for her jacket, but Andrew stopped her.

"No. I don't think we have to worry about him being taken in that way. I don't know anything. We've been cut off so long… I don't know what to expect, but maybe we should wait until we hear something."

Monica looked panic-stricken. "I can't lose him, Andrew. Not now."

"And you won't." He paused and held her close. "In the meantime, I'll go and try to find some answers."

. . . . . . .

It was late, after midnight in a rundown neighborhood. The streets were strewn with trash, wet with grime. Cars with broken windows lined the battered roads and a siren sounded in the distance. There was a commotion nearby and then the blast of gunfire.

The soft yellow glow of an angel became visible to Andrew, and he heaved a sigh of relief. He was thankful he could see it, so he wasn't completely cut off from his angelic connections.

The angel standing there was tall, his ash hair disheveled as he turned and smirked. "Andrew? How did you…"

"This isn't a social call, Adam. I came for answers."

Adam nodded. "How did you even get here?"

Andrew looked away, wishing he could bypass the explanation. "I took a plane west. And then a train. And a taxi brought me to this street."

"Intuitive."

"I came to the worst neighborhood I could find because I knew it would be you."

"Why?" Adam's blue eyes were dark here in the black of night.

"I need answers. Why are angels talking to my son?"

Adam hesitated. "I don't know."

"You're a liar." Andrew's tone shocked Adam. He swallowed.

"Listen, this isn't my place. I'm not the one you need to talk to."

"But you have something to do with it." Andrew's voice was quiet but intense. "Don't tell me you don't because I know you."

"Andrew, I have work to do. I'm on a schedule. You know it can't wait…"

"No, it _will_ wait! Tell me why angels are talking to my son!"

"Angels talk to everyone. You know that."

"Still, you know something you're not saying. Tell me."

"I don't know anything." the angel was panicking, "Why don't you ask Tess… or Sam…"

"I'm asking you, Adam! – and don't play games with me! Why are angels hanging around Christian? Tell me!"

Backed into a corner, Adam blurted, "Because they're preparing him to die, okay? He's going to die!"

Andrew's eyes went wide with fear and understanding as he stumbled backward. "No…"

"You can't do anything to stop this, Andrew, so don't even try! It's bigger than you!"

Andrew felt like something had hit him in the chest. He stared into Adam's sky-colored eyes as realization washed over him. "You're going to take him."

"Andrew…" Adam went to him and held him as he seemed to lose his footing. He held him close as his body sank. "…Andrew...I'm so, so sorry…" He whispered into his hair, comforting him. Andrew wasn't crying but it was as if life had gone out of him. Yes, he would miss his son, terribly, but he was thinking of Monica. He was thinking about what it would do to her, what it would do to them…

"Come on, I'll take you home." he held Andrew upright and they both vanished into thin air, reappearing again outside Andrew's home he shared with Monica.

When they landed, Adam was still glowing. Andrew was silent, his handsome features drawn down in despair. His shoulders slumped.

"Andrew, go inside and enjoy your life. Enjoy your family. This is more than most people ever have, this much happiness, this much love…"

"When?"

Adam paused. "I'm not at liberty to say. But soon."

"I trusted you." Andrew's eyes were red-rimmed, his voice so soft. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Andrew, this isn't something I wanted. This isn't my doing."

Andrew shook his head and walked away from Adam, stumbling up the walk towards the house. When he went inside, it was quiet and dark. He looked into Christian's bedroom and saw his beautiful son snuggled up with his beautiful Monica. even in her human form, without her angelic capabilities, she was angelic in every way. Her pale visage, framed by such long copper red locks, endless as ribbon around her. He didn't want to wake them, just to bring such pain, so he let them sleep.

. . . . . . .

In the morning, he was woken by the sound of his son making chirping noises in his ear. He opened his eyes and was greeted by a big grin.

"Good morning, Daddy! You slept on the couch!" he giggled, and Andrew pulled the child into his lap and held him so tight. It took everything inside him not to break down and start sobbing, but he held it together for Christian and for Monica.

"I love you so much." he whispered into his soft curls, and Christian squirmed.

"Daddy, I'm going to be late for school."

Then Andrew had a thought. "Lets skip school today. Then me, you, and mommy can go do something really fun."

Christian's dark eyes grew wide with excitement. "Skip school? Mommy said we shouldn't never skip school!"

Andrew grinned. "Well, mommy needs to live a little, yes?"

Christian jumped up and down, giggling, and Andrew lifted him into the air, letting him fly like a plane. When Monica came into the room, she was wiping her sleepy eyes. A dimple creased her cheek as she half-grinned.

"Breakfast comes before the wee air show."

"We're skipping school today, mommy!" Christian informed Monica who met Andrew's gaze.

"Skipping school? Was this your idea?" but her tone was light.

He nodded. "I thought it might be fun. The three of us, picnicking, video-gaming, ice-cream eating… maybe the zoo…"

Monica eyed him, closely. She knew him better than anyone, and she knew there was some underlying reason. Andrew wasn't normally impulsive, but now it was as if he was trying to fit a lot into a little space of time. She liked it, though, the thought of spending a day together, hanging out.

"I'll call your school and tell them you'll be out today."

"Yay!" Christian wailed, his little socks sliding against the wood floor as Andrew marveled in the sight of him, the existence of him.

"But, we're not going to make a habit of this, young man?" she directed that at Andrew.

Andrew grinned at her. "Of course not, _mommy_."

Christian giggled.

. . . . . . . . .

It was much later, as they strolled hand-in-hand through the zoo, Christian running up to the thick glass to peer in at the tiger, prowling the cage, massive and deadly. He was intrigued by the huge cat, and Monica turned to look at Andrew while the boy was distracted.

"I'm having a lovely day, Andrew. Being with you and Christian… it's all I ever wanted."

He nodded, leaned in to kiss the soft place between her neck and ear. "I don't… ever want it to end."

His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, but Monica looked up at him. "Andrew, is everything alright?"

He nodded. "Everything is fine."

Her voice was soft. "You wouldn't lie to me?"

"No…" he shook his head, brought her hand up and kissed the knuckles. "…I wouldn't lie."

And then he bent his head to capture her mouth with his in a gentle kiss. Monica held onto his shirt, tugging him closer before breaking the kiss. Her cocoa eyes held a certain promise that warmed his belly and then their gazes went to where Christian stood watching them from between his little fingers.

"That's gross. Kissing. In public." he murmured, and Monica laughed and went to scoop him up in her arms.

"But I love your daddy – and I love you!"

And she snuggled him until he relented. "Okay, okay! Too much love, mommy!" And he laughed while she tickled him.

And Andrew watched them, but something in the distance caught his eyes and he saw, several feet away, working at an ice-cream cart, Gloria. She smiled and waved, but her smile faded as Raphael went past carrying a broom, wearing a zoo emblem shirt.

A little further away, Adam was handing out tickets to a show. The look on his face was all business. By then Monica had seen the look on Andrew's face and she stood and addressed him.

"Andrew, what is it? What's wrong?"

"It's time to go." he murmured. "Get Christian's hand."

She listened without argument, and although he tried to keep the tension out of his voice, deep down inside, a little voice told him: the countdown had begun…


	12. Chapter 12

**_First off, I know this has been a long time coming, but this is finally the end. I wanted to drag it out, but that would have taken a year, and its already been so long. lol! :-) Secondly, I really want to thank everyone for reading thus far and i want to thank all the kind reviewers. All the stories I read here are what inspired me to even start writing in the genre. So thank you for that as well. That said, I really hope this ending will appease the fans of this story. Perhaps, when there is time, I will write another. Lord knows, I want to! Again, thanks for reading - and enjoy! _**

12

Andrew drove deep into the night. Nobody had said much, and Christian had long ago fallen asleep. In the quiet of the car, Monica wanted to put words to her racing thoughts.

"It's not like you to keep things from me, Andrew."

He kept his eyes trained ahead. He was wondering if there was some way to outrun this even while the rational part of his brain told him he was being foolish.

Monica nudged him. "It's alright. I can handle it. Whatever it is."

"Even if it means losing Christian?" he glanced at her in the dark cocoon of the car. "Can you handle that?"

Her body ached at the thought and she turned away from him. "That's it, isn't it? They've come to take him. Finally."

"Yes." Andrew's jaw clenched. It made him angry to feel so powerless. Even driving away was futile. It would have been easier if they had just stayed. They had passed over the state line, but distance meant nothing as compared to the awesome power of the Father.

"I don't know what I am anymore." Monica's voice was weary and sounded so far away. "I don't know if I am an angel or a human or…" she hesitated, sorrow creeping into her voice. "… I don't even know if God loves me anymore, but I can still feel it there, so close, Andrew."

"Monica…" he reached for her hand and held it in his larger one, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Maybe I'm selfish because I want everything. I want God's love and God's mercy – but I also want my little boy. I want Christian, and I want you, and I want Tess…" her eyes began to swell and overflow now. "… does that make me a bad person?"

"Of course not, angel!" he released her hand and reached up to cup her cheek, so cool and soft. He could feel the wetness.

"I want more time with him." she leaned into Andrew's caress. "I want to be his mother forever."

"And you will be." he slowed the car to a stop at a rest stop. "Lets wait here."

Past the parking lot, beyond the forest, there was nothing but darkness. Monica got out of the car and hugged herself. It was chilly, yes, but she was reacting more to the feeling of being afraid. She started to meander farther away, into the cleansing quiet of the forest.

Inside the car, Andrew continued to sit. Then he turned around to look at the sleeping form of his child, so beautiful and perfect.

When he turned back, he realized he was sitting next to an old friend.

"Hello, Andrew." it was Raphael, his warm brown face a soft glow in the shadowed car.

"Are you in on this?" Andrew could scarcely keep the animosity out of his voice. "Christian said he spoke to an angel named Raphael."

"Yes, friend, it was me."

"Friend? Is that what friends do? Sneak around and lie to one another? Steal their children? _Friend_?"

Raphael shook his head. "This isn't you talking, Andrew. You're an angel. Have you forgotten?"

"Why weren't you up front with me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wouldn't have made a difference. There was no way to stop it. Christian came from you and Monica, but he was never yours."

Andrew shook his head, his hands tight on the steering wheel. He wanted to do something, but there was nothing to do. He was so angry he could barely see straight, but he was also defeated. He wanted to push Raphael out of the car, but he also wanted to wrap his arms around him. He needed the comfort, and he hated to admit he had missed being in his company.

"Soon, Adam will come." Raphael's voice was so quiet, Andrew had to strain to hear, but then he realized he didn't want to hear it…

"Shut up!" He felt a hot trail of wetness slide down his cheek, a tear. "Get out. Leave us alone!"

Raphael nodded. He placed a comforting hand on Andrew's arm before he got out and vanished.

In another instant, Andrew went to find Monica. She was looking up at the night sky several feet from the car. She was unaware they had been visited by Raphael.

"Look at the stars, Andrew. There are so many."

He held onto her shoulders, resting his face against her. "Yes. There are."

"God is looking down at us. I can feel Him." a shiver ran through her and through him as well. "For the first time, Andrew, I'm afraid."

He looked up at her, his eyes wet. She dragged her hands through his hair, marveling in the silky feel of the golden locks against her palms. He was so beautiful to her, so perfect. Christian was just like him only in miniature. She kissed her love's forehead.

"Andrew, lets go home."

He nodded. "Okay, angel."

As they drove, the silence was comfortable. It was only a matter of time before they reached the little home they shared together in the quaint little suburb. It had taken three hours to get away, but it seemed to take only fifteen minutes to get back.

Andrew unfastened the sleeping form of his baby from the rear seat and carried him up the threshold as Monica unlocked the door for them. He only woke up to smile at his parents as they tucked him into his bed. It was starting to be light outside, but time seemed to stand still as they walked into the sitting room and sat before the fireplace.

Together, they felt old, like a lifetime had gone past – and maybe it had. They were tired, spent, and aching. Andrew folded his hands in his lap as Monica chewed her lip and fiddled with the hem of her blouse. It was as if they were waiting. Waiting for death.

At one point, Monica began to cry, her tears overflowing, her hands trembling, until Andrew reached over and held them in his strong steady grip.

"Shhh…" he whispered and leaned over, nuzzled her cheek, let her silken red tresses conceal his own tears, and then the light appeared in the room.

Andrew released her hands, and she wiped her face. He stood to greet Adam as if he were a houseguest. "Adam."

"Hey, guys." Adam spoke in a solemn voice. He was wearing his customary white suit, and he was so bright, a beautiful light. "I wish I were here under different circumstances, but… well… you know why I'm here…"

"Please, don't…" Andrew pleaded, though his voice sounded far away. Truthfully, all the fight had gone out of him. He didn't know what he would become after this day. The bitterness was leaving him just as quickly as it had filled him up, and he couldn't imagine being an angel again with so many conflicting emotions. How could he ever help anyone when he couldn't even help himself?

Adam came forward, placed a hand on Andrew's shoulder. "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You two are my best friends…"

Monica covered her face in her hands, sobbing in earnest. "Don't do this, Adam…"

Adam shook his head, the sorrow plain on his boyish features. "Monica, I would give anything if I didn't have to. But I _have_ to."

"It's not bad, angel babies…" Tess' voice was hoarse with emotion as she materialized, a bright, glowing beacon of light and love. "…this lil angel is going to live with the Father."

And Monica turned to where Tess stood, but she couldn't bring herself to go to her. Not yet. Instead, she dashed down the hall to Christian's room, the other angels following closely behind.

Raphael was already there, and Christian was awake, his dark eyes wide with wonder.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, my beautiful boy, I am here." She knelt beside him and reached up to caress his golden ringlets. "Mommy loves you dearly."

"Don't be afraid, mommy. Raphael said God loves me, and He loves you and daddy and everyone and He will take care of us. Forever."

Monica nodded, her tears endless. "Yes, darling, I know…"

"So, don't be sad because I'll still be with you."

"Yes…" was all she could bring herself to say.

Adam came close and whispered. "It's time." But Monica wasn't ready.

"No. Please don't. A little more time… more time, please, Adam… don't take my child…" she was muttering, pleading, reaching for him, tugging desperately at the white sleeve of his coat. "Adam, please… give me more time…please… please…"

"Monica, there is no more time. I'm… so sorry…"

His face was torn as he knelt beside the bed and whispered to Christian, lightly touching his cheek until the boy's lids fluttered shut and he lay limp. Monica watched as the light left him, and she let out a little cry of despair.

Andrew sank to his knees, but Monica stormed from the room, Tess calling after her.

"Monica, baby, come back…"

Raphael came to kneel beside Andrew and held him tightly. "And now it's time for you to come home as well. You've been away too long."

Andrew shook his head, unable to leave his child's. "I can't… I can't, Raphael… I have to… Monica…"

"You can. Shhh…" He held him close in a strong embrace. "Lets get you out of this place. Tess will take care of Monica. The other angels will handle this business down here."

Andrew let Raphael lead him. He was too dazed to do anything else.

Outside, Monica was pacing, agitated. It was Tess who held out a steady hand to her.

"Come on, baby." she extended her hand. "When we get home, there will be a beautiful surprise waiting for you. You'll regret wasting so much time down here."

"I don't want to go back, Tess." Monica wiped her puffy red face. "I feel empty and alone."

"Well, that's one thing you never are is alone, baby." Tess regarded her closest friend, her apprentice. "I can tell you one thing, I sure did miss you while you and Andrew were down here. Living life, raising a child. I thought maybe… you forgot all about me."

Monica turned to look at Tess, the closest thing she would ever have to a mother. "I could never forget you, Tess. I wouldn't be who I am without you."

"Then, come home with me now, angel baby. You weren't meant for this kind of life, long-term. Humanity has bled all the angel out of you. You need to get back to where you can be whole again, and remember your calling – and remember who gave you that calling."

"The Father." Monica wiped her wet eyes again, and the thought of being in heaven again, surrounded by peace and harmony, surrounded with God's grace and love, constantly, like a warm blanket, left her feeling so good it sent a jolt of electricity through her. She went to Tess and let herself be embraced like the old days, like before all this began.

"That's it, baby. Tess is here. It's gonna be alright now." Monica wept, and in doing so, she shed her humanity, the last remaining traces. She wept for the life she was leaving, a domestic partnership with Andrew, motherhood, seasons of changes, aging, blood, sweat, and pain. All the human things. It was of no consequence now. The truth was, she and Andrew had been mere vessels to create a new life, a new kind of angel. She had lost sight of that during her time on Earth, but she felt herself reinstating, like a flower blooming, or a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

At the gates of eternity, Andrew's face was blotchy pink from so much crying. His eyes were swollen. He didn't even realize when he and Raphael materialized in heaven, the air around them was so pure, the harmony of the choir permeating the air. It was like magic, but Andrew felt his sorrow and pain wash away like it never existed. He was shedding years of humanity as well, like a second skin.

A short distance away, Monica stood next to Tess. Both angels were smiling. Monica looked as she had before her love affair with Andrew even began. Her skin was downy and bright. Her hair was full, dark eyes free and cloudless. There was no worry on her face, no pain.

"Hello, Andrew." her voice lifted his spirit even higher.

"Monica." their time together on earth was fuzzy, like a distant memory and fading fast.

"See, I told you, you would feel a hundred percent better." Raphael grinned. "And there's someone you might want to see."

Walking towards them was a tiny little angel dressed in a white robe, his golden ringlets wild about his head. He wore a bright grin. Adam was holding his hand, a smirk on his face.

"I'm giving this little guy the grand tour." he winked at Tess.

"And what's your name, angel baby?" Tess bent to address him.

"My name is Christian." he smiled at her. "And your name is Tess."

"That is very correct." she beamed, then stood to whisper to Adam. "He sure resembles a certain angel boy. I hope that doesn't cause any issues down the road."

Adam scrunched his eyebrows. "Nah. Shouldn't. If so, we'll say he's… a long lost nephew…"

Now Tess elbowed Adam in the ribs, causing Adam to yelp. "Hey! What'd I say?"

She rolled her eyes and turned to watch as Monica knelt to greet the new angel. "Hello, wee angel."

He rested his little hand on her cheek, touching her hair. "Your name is Monica, right?"

Monica nodded, falling in love with him. She had no prior knowledge of him, but there was a familiarity about him she couldn't deny. It tugged at her. "Yes, my name is Monica."

He looked deeply into her cafe eyes, which, incidentally, were exactly the same as his own. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I saw God today, and I touched His robes, and He knew me, and He told me He loved me, and I cried."

Monica felt herself fill up with love, all over again. She pulled Christian into her lap and hugged him to her. The sweetness and purity of him was overwhelming. She never wanted to let him go.

Nearby, Andrew approached and took in the scene. When Monica finally released the boy, he was smiling and holding onto her, so close. He looked up at Andrew and became bashful.

"I know you." he said in his soft little voice. "Your name is Andrew."

Andrew nodded, a grin on his lips. "I know you too, Christian."

The tiny angel nodded, then said. "I always wanted to meet you."

"Oh?" Andrew was surprised at that declaration. Especially considering Christian couldn't have known him before now. After all, he had only just come into existence. Then again, anything was possible…

Christian nodded. "I want to be an angel of death like you, so I can bring people home again. Where they can be happy forever."

Andrew was rendered momentarily speechless. He had only just met the boy, but something about him was infectious. "That's… um… a noble ambition."

Then Andrew knelt and lifted the boy into his arms. He had always loved children. The innocence and the simplicity made it easy to deal with them, but there was something specific about Christian he couldn't quite put his finger on. He wanted to hold him in his arms, to talk to him and listen to him and never let him go… but there were other pressing matters…

"I'm so glad to know you." he said, lightly touching the little angel's nose with his index finger, making him giggle. "And I know you'll be a terrific angel."

When he set Christian down again, he noticed Monica had wandered away. He looked to Tess, an inquiry forming in his mind, but then he remembered he didn't necessarily have to give voice to every thought. He was an angel in heaven, and Tess was intuitive.

"She's down by the choir hall, baby."

Andrew nodded and followed the sound of the music as it gradually got louder and clearer. He knew he was close when he was enveloped in the harmonies of flawless voices raised in praise.

He found her seated near the entrance of the hall, her long flowing hair cascading down her back like a silky red waterfall.

"Hello."

She turned and smiled when she saw him. "Hello."

He approached her and sat down near her. "I don't really know what to say, but I'm certain something went on… between us."

Monica nodded. "Yes. But I don't know what it was. I only know that what we did together was a mission of love, and we carried it out."

"Apparently, we're better off not knowing the details."

"I missed heaven. I know that much, Andrew." she paused, looking around. "And I missed the choir, and I missed Tess. And I missed you."

He flushed, an irrational reaction. "I'm certain I was with you the whole time."

"Yes, but not as we are now. I think it was… some other version of me and you. If that makes any sense. Nothing really makes sense… except for this."

"I never want our friendship to be jeopardized. No matter what."

Monica nodded. "I agree."

"Whatever happened, I'm glad to be back on track."

"Yes. I don't know where we were, but I know we weren't in heaven. And this is the place where I am most comfortable, with the people I know and love. Home."

"Same here." he concurred. "But whatever we went through, I'm glad it was with you."

She reached for his hand, turned it over in her own before bringing it to her lips and kissing the smooth back of it. "Yes. Likewise."

END


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